


Bruises

by starsthatburn



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Abuse, Comfort/Angst, Domestic Violence, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Eventual Romance, F/F, Family, Family Feels, Hurt/Comfort, Marriage, Physical Abuse, Romance, Running Away, Threats of Violence, Verbal Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-14
Updated: 2016-07-31
Packaged: 2018-07-15 02:25:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 67,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7202546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starsthatburn/pseuds/starsthatburn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Prompt from Jenna6650 for being my 350th reviewer on A Trail of Destruction)</p><p>AU: Henry is ill in hospital, and so when the time comes for Henry to know his birth mom, Regina is the one who seeks her out. However, when she arrives in Boston, Regina finds that Emma now has a family of her own. Trigger warnings for domestic violence.</p><p>You can find all of my other Swan Queen fics here - https://www.fanfiction.net/u/4542779/</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The dark-haired woman stood at the edge of the sidewalk, frowning at the house that was sat on the other side of the road. She didn't know what she had been expecting, but it hadn't been this: the house that was nestled on the very outskirts of Boston was tiny and inexpensive, and it was undoubtedly falling apart – and yet it somehow still reminded her of the cottages that she saw in story books. The same books that she had once read to her son from. The house had once been painted green, though over time the rain and the wind that had roared in from the sea had faded the colour down to a muted, minty grey. Everything about the building seemed to be watered down and worn: the flaking paint of the doorframes; the dying grass in the yard; the metal number 7 on the front door that was turning amber from rust. And yet Regina couldn't help but stare, and admire. It looked like somewhere that Henry would enjoy living.

Her chest caught thinking about his name. The last time that she'd seen him he'd been curled up beneath a thin white sheet, tears dribbling down his cheeks. She hadn't been able to tell if they had come from the pain, or just from a pure, deep sadness that he wouldn't let himself vocalise.

He'd only asked one thing of her. Just one. She'd agreed to do it and she'd made it this far – and Regina Mills wasn't about to back out of that promise. Not when the house that she'd been hunting down for the past week lay right in front of her with its broken gate swinging wide open.

She sucked in a breath through her teeth, hitching her purse more firmly onto her shoulder. Towering heels led her across the deserted street before she could give herself the time to think about what she was doing and try to turn back.

The brick path that led up to the front door was cracked and uneven, and more than once Regina nearly stumbled. She kept her chin held high nonetheless, her eyes on that number 7. She noticed now that it was crooked. The whole house looked crooked. She took another deep breath, inhaling the hazy fumes of the nearby city tinged with the faint smell of dampness that was coming from somewhere within the house's porch. She had reached the front door before she knew it.

Raising one fist to knock on the peeling wood, she found herself hesitating. She had no idea what she was expecting to find on the other side of that door: in her head the woman who had abandoned Henry at 18 had always appeared to her as selfish, irresponsible, careless and probably cruel. Regina closed her eyes for a moment, her fist still raised, calling to mind the picture of the unknown woman that she had constructed over the past 10 years: small, and painfully skinny. Grey-skinned and mousy-haired with cigarette smoke clouding her permanently dull, colourless eyes. Henry's birth mother was an enigma, one whom Regina had enjoyed knowing absolutely nothing of. The moment that her fist hit that door, her comforting blindness would be destroyed. She wasn't sure that she was ready to deal with that.

But her knuckle rapped on the wood anyway – because Henry wanted it to. Henry had asked her to do this. His hazel eyes, bleary from the pain medication, hadn't left her brown ones as he'd forced her to promise that she would come and do this for him. She wasn't going to let him down.

Footsteps on the other side of the door made her chest seize. She closed her eyes, and sucked in a breath. Her mayor's smile was ready when that door opened.

Blonde hair. Lots of it. Green eyes seeking her out, frowning at her from the darkness of a hallway without windows.

'Can I help you?' the woman asked, her forehead creasing in the same way that Henry's did when he was anxious. Regina's smile never faltered.

'Yes,' she replied, holding out her hand just as she had told herself that she would do. 'My name is Regina Mills.'

'Hi,' the woman slowly responded, reaching out to shake it. She was wearing a thin red tank top and ill-fitting jeans, her feet bare with blue-painted toenails peeking out from beneath the fabric. Those blonde curls tumbled down her spine, over her shoulders, falling into her eyes and around her cheekbones. For a moment Regina imagined what Henry would look like with blonde hair, with those curls, and she felt the corners of her mouth twitch.

'Are you Emma Swan?' she heard herself ask. The woman blinked.

'Yes,' she said, looking around for a moment to see if Regina had anyone with her. 'Do I… do I know you?'

'No,' Regina said. 'But I have something that I need to discuss with you. Would it be alright if I came in?'

The look on Emma's face told her that it most definitely would not be alright. And yet, she stepped backwards. Regina edged past her, waiting beside a half-painted wall for the door to close and for Emma to lead her into the next room. When she did, Regina found herself in a sparsely furnished living room with faded green carpet. The sofa that she was invited to sit on faced a television set that was cracked in one corner and leaned to one side at an odd angle.

The room was clean at least, she forced herself to admit as she sat down. The curtains that hung about the small window were thrown wide open to let as much watery Boston sunlight in as possible, and when Emma edged past Regina that faint yellow glimmer from outside got caught in her blonde hair. Regina watched with a pang of what could have been jealousy as she sidled past her, sitting down in the threadbare armchair beside the TV.

She curled up her feet beneath her body and forced a smile. Regina noticed that even as she did so, the corners of her mouth still pointed downwards.

'So,' Emma said, placing her hands in her lap. 'Regina, was it?'

'Yes. Regina Mills.'

'Right. What can I do for you?'

Regina offered her another smile. It was too bright, too easy, and Emma's eyes narrowed at it.

Regina opened her mouth to tell her why she was there. To tell her about Henry. But then, at the last moment, she faltered: she wasn't quite ready for that. Not just yet.

'Do you live here alone?' Regina heard herself asking. She wasn't quite sure why.

Emma frowned, but answered nonetheless. 'No. I have a husband, but he's at work.'

'I see. What does he do?'

'He's a policeman,' she said. Regina wasn't sure whether she was telling the truth or whether she was just trying to warn this strange woman off of doing anything that she might regret.

'Do you have any children?'

'No,' Emma said without missing a beat. Her tone was sharp as she asked, 'Do you?'

Regina ignored the question. 'And what do you do, Miss Swan?'

'Instead of me answering that,' Emma said, folding her arms across her chest. As she did so Regina noticed a fading bruise along the back of her arm. 'Why don't you answer a question of mine?'

Regina swallowed, nodding. 'Alright.'

'What are you doing here?'

Regina paused. '…I have to ask you something.'

'You've already asked me a few somethings,' Emma said, raising her eyebrows. 'How do you even know my name? How did you find me?'

'I have… contacts,' Regina admitted somewhat reluctantly. This woman didn't need to know just how much money she had spent on a website entitled whosyourmomma. org.

Emma sighed, running her hand unconsciously over that bruise on her arm. 'Look. Here's the thing: I don't know who you are. I don't know why you're here, or why you're so interested in me. So can you just do us both a favour and get to the point?'

Regina blinked. For some reason she hadn't expected this woman, with her perfect princess curls and skinny arms, to be quite so forthright. She had to admit that it was oddly impressive.

She swallowed. 'Okay. Here it is.'

There was a long pause as she took in a breath, trying to force the words out. She didn't want to say it. She did not want this woman involved in her life in any way.

But she'd promised Henry. She'd promised, and she didn't have a choice.

'It's about your son.'

Emma blinked. 'I… I don't have a son.'

'Yes you do,' Regina replied in a flat voice. 'You gave a baby up 10 years ago. I adopted him. He's… he's called Henry.'

Emma was frozen in her chair, her green eyes flashing. She opened her mouth to reply, but no words came. Instead she just shook her head at the strange woman sat before her.

'He's not very well,' Regina continued, looking down at the ground between them. 'He's in hospital.'

'Look, lady,' Emma choked out. Her face had gone pale. 'If they think he's got some genetic illness, I really can't help you – I'm healthy, and I've never met my parents. I don't know anything about them.'

'It's not genetic,' Regina said. 'At least, they don't think it is. But that's not the reason why I'm here.'

'Then why are you? You don't look like you'd need money,' Emma said, eyeing her perfectly pressed shirt and skirt.

'I don't need money either,' Regina said. She sighed. 'There's a chance… a small chance that Henry might not make it.'

Emma flinched. 'Oh. I'm sorry.'

'We're still hopeful,' Regina said, forcing a smile. 'He has improved over the last few days. But… well, there's still a danger that it could get worse. And Henry… Henry asked me to do something for him. Just in case.'

'Oh,' Emma sighed. 'He sent you?'

'He wanted to meet you,' Regina said, the words tasting metallic on her tongue. 'He's a very curious little boy. He wanted… he just wanted to know who you are. And I promised him that I'd try and find you.'

Emma nodded, but she still looked shell-shocked. 'Right.'

'I understand that this is probably a bit of a surprise,' Regina said. 'And I realise that this is probably the last thing you need. But, as I'm sure _you_ understand – inviting my son's birth mother to walk back into our lives isn't something that I'm especially excited about either. So I wouldn't be here unless I was really desperate.'

'No. I get that,' Emma muttered, leaning back in her seat. As she did so her curls slid off of her shoulder, and Regina couldn't help but narrow her eyes when she realised that there was another bruise peeking out from underneath the strap of her tank top. 'It's just… Ms Mills… look, I was 18 when I had the kid. I couldn't look after him. I gave him up because I wanted him to have his best chance, and look at you. You obviously gave him that. If I was still looking after him and he got sick I wouldn't even be able to pay the hospital bills. There's a really good reason why you're his mother, not me.'

'I appreciate that,' Regina said, dragging her eyes away from the bruised skin. 'And so does Henry. But if there's even the smallest chance that he might not… that something could go wrong soon… Miss Swan, he just wants to see you before that happens. That's all. I'm not inviting you for dinner, or to move into our house, or to sit by his side and nurse him back to health again. I just promised him that I'd ask you to come and see him.'

Emma nodded. Her face was still pale, and her fingers were nervously tangling together in her lap.

'Where is he?' she asked quietly.

'Storybrooke General Hospital,' Regina replied. 'Maine.'

'I've never heard of it,' Emma said. Regina's face remained completely impassive, glancing back down at her shoulder.

Emma sighed once more, her chest heaving below the thin red fabric of her shirt. It was an unmistakably defeated sound, and Regina looked back up again to find that she was shaking her head.

'Here's the thing,' Emma said quietly. 'I feel bad. I really do. And I appreciate that coming down here and finding me can't have been easy for you. But… Ms Mills, I don't know the kid. I made a choice to give him up and I made that choice for a reason. He… he doesn't know who I am, or what I'm like, or anything – if he meets me, I'll only be a disappointment to him. I'll just be the woman who let him go. He doesn't need that.'

'But he's asked to see you,' Regina said, not sure why she was pushing this when it would be far easier to simply get up and go home to her son.

'I know that,' Emma sighed. 'Like you said – he's curious. But that doesn't mean that the reality will help him.'

'You don't know that.'

'And you don't know that it will,' Emma said. 'Look – I have a life here. I can't just take off to East Jesus Nowhere at the drop of a hat to go and see a kid that my husband doesn't even know about. I mean – God. Are you married, Ms Mills?'

'No,' Regina said quietly. 'I'm not.'

Emma groaned to herself. 'Well. Marriages are… difficult. They don't need any more complications than are strictly necessary, and this is definitely one hell of a spanner to throw in the works. I can't… I can't do that to him. To us.'

'Because you're afraid of how he'll react?' Regina asked flatly. Emma jumped.

'No,' she snapped. 'What? Why would you even ask that?'

'Anyone would react badly to something like this,' Regina shrugged. 'You'd be well within your rights to be worried about it.'

Emma narrowed her eyes. She was well aware that that wasn't the reason that Regina had said it. Tugging the fabric of her shirt more firmly over the bruise on her shoulder, she let her gaze fall back down to Regina's towering black heels.

'I can't come,' she said simply, her voice expressionless. 'I'm sorry.'

Regina forced herself to nod. 'If you're sure.'

'He doesn't need me.'

'Perhaps not,' Regina said. 'Or maybe, right now, you're exactly what he needs.'

'Why would I be what he needs?' Emma asked. She sounded exhausted.

'You're an answer,' Regina said simply. 'Henry likes answers.'

A tiny smile came over Emma's face for a moment. She almost looked wistful. And then, just as quickly as it had come, it disappeared. Regina watched as her face hardened and the blonde woman before her forced herself to her feet.

'I'm sorry, Ms Mills,' she said, gesturing towards the door. 'I want to help you. I do. But me coming to see him… that won't change anything. I have a tendency to only make things worse whatever I do.'

Regina stood up to join her, waiting to be led across the living room. Emma, however, didn't move.

'If you say so, Miss Swan,' she said, letting herself smile. Emma's hair was covering the bruise on her shoulder once again, and yet she found herself eyeing the spot where it had been nonetheless.

'I'll only hurt him more,' Emma said. She was talking more to herself than she was to the brunette stood before her. 'He doesn't want me there. Not really.'

'Okay,' Regina said, taking a small step closer. Emma only looked up from the ground when Regina was right in front of her, a pinched look of concern on her face.

From across the room Emma had thought her eyes were black. This close, she realised that they were actually a warm, melting caramel.

'You should… you should probably go,' Emma said with a sigh. 'If he's sick, he needs you.'

'I know,' Regina said. 'I just wanted to make sure that I couldn't persuade you.'

'Why?'

A hand slowly reached out towards her, nudging her blonde curls away from her shoulder so that the bruise was exposed once more. Emma flinched.

'I know a thing or two about this,' Regina said in a low voice, her eyes fixed on the bruise that looked even more violent close up. 'About hiding bruises, and being afraid to step out of line.'

'I don't know what—'

'And about being scared to leave,' Regina interrupted. Green eyes watched her curiously. 'You at least have a choice here, Miss Swan. You can leave. Some people aren't so lucky.'

'With all due respect, Ms Mills,' Emma said, her eyes suddenly flashing, 'you don't know me. You have no idea about what's happening here.'

'No. But I'm willing to bet that I know more than most other people do.'

'Because you're speculating.'

'Or because I'm looking,' Regina said simply. She took a step backwards. 'Just like how your son is looking for you. I'm just holding up my end of the bargain.'

'By intruding on my personal life?'

'By showing you that there's someone out that who cares about you,' Regina said flatly. 'There's someone who wants to know you, Miss Swan. I can't say that I especially approve of that – but if it gets you out of here, then I'm not going to lie to you about it. Henry wants to meet you. You should come with me. Now.'

Emma shook her head. She looked panicked. 'I'm not going anywhere.'

'You'd prefer to live with a man who—'

'You know nothing!' Emma suddenly exploded, her forehead creasing into fierce lines. 'Nothing! This is my life, Ms Mills – I'm the one who has to live it, not you. And I'm not just going to up and leave my husband because you've decided to indulge in your son's twisted daydreams of having a happy family.'

'My son has a happy family.' Regina's tone was full of sudden warning. 'He has a happy life. Do not dare mistake his curiosity for anything else, Miss Swan, because I will not stand for it.'

'Just as I will not stand for you judging my life and judging the man that I married,' Emma snapped. She suddenly moved past Regina, leading her into the dark hallway with her hair streaming out behind her. When she threw open the front door, Regina didn't move to walk through it.

'You need to leave now, Regina.'

'Yes,' she replied, still not moving. 'I probably do.'

Emma blinked with disbelief. 'Well? Are you going to?'

'I don't know,' Regina said, tilting her head to one side. 'Are you going to consider coming to see Henry?'

'No.'

'Are you going to be okay staying here?'

Emma flinched again. 'Yes. Okay? I'm fine. And even if I wasn't, it's quite frankly none of your business anyway. So you may go now.'

'Okay,' Regina said, taking a small step past her. When she was on the porch, she turned back with a frown etched across her forehead. 'If you change your mind – we live at 108 Mifflin Street, Storybrooke. The town… it can be quite difficult to find. But it's there.'

'Great,' Emma said flatly, folding her arms across her chest. She had moved to the centre of the doorway like she was planning on tackling Regina if she tried to come back in again. 'Thanks.'

Regina nodded. 'Please. Do think about it.'

Emma said nothing. The bruise on her shoulder was visible again and Regina forced herself not to stare at it.

'It was nice meeting you, Miss Swan,' she said slowly, not smiling. 'Hopefully Henry will be seeing you soon as well.'

She turned away and began to walk across the road to her car. She was inside and clipping in her seatbelt before she let herself look back across the street again – the front door was still open. Emma was watching her, frowning. Regina couldn't tell whether she was still there because she was checking that she was actually going, or whether it was because, for some reason, she simply didn't want her to leave.

* * *

'He's taken a turn, Mayor Mills.'

Regina's jaw tightened. She pulled her eyes away from the blonde doctor stood before her, focusing instead on the boy who was lying in bed on the other side of the glass. Her chest tightened whenever she noticed how pale he had gotten.

'I thought you said that his condition was improving?' she asked in a low voice, trying to stay calm.

'It was,' Dr Whale replied. 'It was looking very promising. And then, this morning… I don't know what to tell you, Madam Mayor. Something has affected him.'

'Last week,' she gritted her teeth together, 'when I left town to find… that woman – you told me that he was on the mend. What were you doing? Humoring me?'

'Mayor Mills, I can't tell you any more than what we can see here,' Dr Whale said. 'He was improving. He was sitting up in bed last night. And now, he's worse. There's a chance that he could have caught some kind of virus while staying here, and because of his compromised immune system, it's affected him more severely than it would do ordinarily.'

'But he's going to be okay?' she asked. Her eyes were flashing with something that couldn't have been mistaken as anything other than desperation.

Dr Whale paused. 'We'll know in the next 24 hours.'

Regina swallowed. The rest of the hospital suddenly seemed very quiet.

'Fine,' she muttered. 'May I see him?'

'We're just about to take some more blood,' the doctor said. 'We have to run a few more tests. It might be 30 minutes or so before you can go in.'

'So, what?' Regina snapped. 'I'm just meant to stand here and watch as you prod him with needles? I can't even visit my own son?'

'You're more than welcome to visit him, Regina; just not right this second,' Dr Whale sighed, reaching out to place his hand on her arm. 'Look – why don't you run home and get some of his things for him? Maybe that book that he's been asking about? It'll be a nice surprise for him when he wakes up.'

'I am not letting this illness work as excuse for him to fill his head up with fairy tale nonsense,' she bit out. The doctor raised an eyebrow.

'In that case,' he said flatly. 'Yes. You'll have to sit here and watch while we run the tests. It's your choice, Madam Mayor.'

With that, he turned on his heel and walked off down the corridor. Regina was left standing alone, her hands bunched into fists by her sides. Through the glass she could see nurses beginning to gather by the side of her son's bed. He looked so… tiny.

She couldn't watch it.

'Fine,' she muttered to herself, turning around and beginning to walk down the same hallway that Whale had just marched off down. If Henry wanted the damn book, then he could have it. She wouldn't be known as the woman who wouldn't even let her son read while he was stuck in the hospital.

She got back into her car and raced across town. If Henry woke up while she was gone… she would never forgive herself. She would never forgive Dr Whale either, given that this whole endeavor had been his ridiculous idea. She gritted her teeth together. _Since when did you start following the orders of that charlatan? He doesn't even have a real medical degree, you fool_.

She reached Mifflin Street. As she pulled closer to her own house, she realised with a frown that there was a car parked on the street outside. A car that she didn't recognise: a garishly bright yellow Beetle with the metal of the frame showing through the paint on one of the doors. She raised an eyebrow. Parking her Mercedes on the drive, she turned the engine off and stepped out onto the tarmac. As she turned, she saw that someone was sat on the edge of her porch.

'You were right,' the woman said, standing up to meet her. 'This town is pretty hard to find.'

'Miss Swan,' Regina said, taking a step closer to her. Emma had replaced her red tank from the week before with an even gaudier leather jacket of the same colour. 'What are you doing here?'

Emma shrugged, her head hanging forwards as Regina approached her. She only looked up when the mayor was stood three feet away.

'Oh.' The sound came from Regina's mouth without her meaning for it to. Emma's expression didn't change.

An enormous bruise was spread across the left side of her face. The flesh below her eye was slightly green, and her cheekbone was swollen from a vicious, sore-looking cut. The injury was obviously several days old, and Regina knew that the bruise must have been fading – so she couldn't begin to imagine what it must have looked like in the first instance.

'Miss Swan,' she said, taking half a step forwards. Her voice cracked. 'What… What _happened_ to you?'

'I fell down,' Emma said flatly. When Regina continued to stare at her, she only shrugged. '…I thought that you'd be happy that I decided to come.'

Happy wasn't exactly the word, but Regina forced a smile nonetheless. 'Yes. Of course I am. I'm glad that you changed your mind.'

She didn't need to say what she was thinking: _it's obvious that the change of heart probably wasn't down to my persuasiveness, though_. Emma saw it in her narrowed eyes without her saying a word.

'I've just come home to get some of Henry's things,' Regina said with a sigh. 'He's… taken a bad turn, unfortunately. He may have caught some virus.'

Emma swallowed. 'I'm sorry. Did I… did I come at a bad time?'

'No,' Regina replied, gliding past her and unlocking the front door. 'It'll be a nice surprise for him when he wakes up.'

She stepped into the house, gesturing for Emma to follow her. The blonde woman crept over the threshold, her eyes widening at the enormous foyer.

'Let me show you into the living room,' Regina said, walking over to the next door. 'Are you okay to wait for me here while I get Henry's things?'

'Of course.'

'Can I get you a drink?'

'I'm fine, thanks.'

Regina nodded, but her eyes had drifted back to the open cut on Emma's face. 'Miss Swan… did you have that checked out?'

'It's a scratch. It's fine.'

'It looks painful.'

'It is,' Emma said flatly, sitting down on the couch. 'But it's still fine.'

Regina inhaled sharply. 'Miss Swan—'

'I didn't come here to be lectured, Regina,' Emma interrupted. 'I came here to see the kid.'

Regina faltered. Then she nodded. 'Very well. Wait here – I'll be back in a moment.'

She could feel Emma's eyes watching her as she disappeared out of the room and up the stairs, her heart clenching like a fist in her chest.

* * *

When she came back, she was clutching a small green box in her hands. Emma jumped when she reentered the room, having been distracted staring at the ornate piano that was sat in the corner and so not having heard her footsteps. The moment she glanced up, however, she saw that box and her sharp eyes narrowed.

'Seriously. Do you ever listen?'

'Not usually,' Regina said, sitting down on the couch next to her and opening up the first aid kit. 'I'm not taking you into a hospital looking like this. They'll think that you're a trauma victim and refuse to let you past the emergency room.'

'Stop exaggerating. It's fine.'

'It's infected. What did he do, carve into you with a rusty nail?'

Emma went quiet for a moment. And then she muttered, 'I fell down.'

'Of course you did,' Regina said, tearing open a packet of antiseptic wipes. 'And onto what?'

She didn't receive a response. She wasn't sure that she expected to.

Emma couldn't help the hiss of pain that came from between her teeth when the damp material touched her skin. She screwed her eyes tightly shut, but forced herself not to say a word. Regina bit at her bottom lip, her eyes grazing over the blonde's pale face for a moment, before she went back to examining the cut. It was deep, and it was painfully swollen. Whatever had happened to her – whatever Emma's husband had hit her with – it hadn't just been his hand.

Regina sighed to herself: her son was in hospital. He might be awake at that very moment, waiting for her to return – and yet she couldn't take her eyes off of that deep, aggressive cut and she couldn't drag her hand away from the soft, flushed skin surrounding it. She was staring at a woman whom she knew that she should hate, and yet, for whatever reason, all she saw in front of her was a strange version of herself. Many years ago, in another world entirely, she had been this same person; scared and trapped and screwing her eyes shut.

Emma Swan had given up her son to give him his best chance. How was it fair, then, that she herself hadn't been allowed the same thing?

'I was married to a man who abused me.'

The words came from Regina's mouth without her thinking about them, and suddenly Emma's green eyes had snapped back open.

Regina sighed, wiping at the cut one final time before placing the now dirty cloth on the table by her side.

'You… you were?'

'Yes,' Regina said flatly. 'A long time ago. I was eighteen.'

Emma's eyes widened. 'You got married at eighteen? What did your parents say about it?'

'It was my parents' idea,' Regina said, not meeting her gaze. 'Leopold… he was three times my age and I barely knew him. But my mother wanted us to marry, so we did.'

'Is that even legal?' Emma asked. Regina paused for a moment.

'Probably not,' she muttered. 'But it was very difficult to say no to my mother. She… was very good at getting what she wanted.'

Emma shifted slightly on the couch, turning her body so that she was facing Regina straight on. 'So what happened?'

Distracting herself by rummaging around in the first aid box, Regina swallowed. 'At first… at first it was tolerable. He was happy to be married and he was proud to have a young, beautiful wife. He bought me things and tried to make me happy to be married to him too. He wanted me to be satisfied with him. He… he was a good man, I think.'

'Until he wasn't,' Emma said quietly, her voice cracking. Regina swallowed.

'Exactly.' Regina pulled a tube of ointment from the box. 'Turn your chin, Miss Swan.'

Emma did as she was told, angling her face so that Regina could rub the cream into the now stinging wound. Neither of them said a word.

The silence stretched on until suddenly Emma couldn't take it anymore.

'How many years?' she blurted out.

Regina frowned. 'I'm sorry?'

'How many years,' Emma repeated at a lower decibel, 'before he started to…?'

'Oh,' Regina said, swallowing. Her thumb grazed across Emma's cheek. 'I'm not sure exactly. Four or five, perhaps? It's hard to remember.'

Emma nodded, falling silent once more. Regina glanced up as she went to apply more ointment and jumped with shock when she realised that a tear was dribbling down Emma's cheek.

'Emma…?'

'I've only been married for a year,' she said quietly. 'One year and sixteen days. I count them. He started hitting me when we'd been married for three months.'

'Emma, listen—'

'He couldn't even make it a year without wanting to hurt me,' Emma interrupted, raising her glassy eyes to the ceiling. Regina lowered her hand, neglecting the cut so that she could look curiously at the rest of Emma's face. 'I don't know what I did wrong, but he came home from work one day and suddenly he couldn't bear to look at me anymore. He beat me and then he kicked me out on the porch. He told me to stay there until he could bring himself to let me back into the house again.'

Regina flinched. 'And… and did you?'

She couldn't ignore the self-loathing in Emma's eyes when they slid back across to meet her own. '…I just want him to love me again.'

'So you do what he asks.'

'Yeah.' Emma sighed. 'Always.'

'But you left today,' Regina said, returning her attention to the cut. 'Why?'

'I…' Emma faltered, shaking her head slightly. 'I was home alone, and I couldn't stop looking at this photo of us on our wedding day. We looked so happy, and so... real. And then I saw myself in the mirror. I couldn't stop crying.'

She forced a weak smile. Her eyes were still watery.

'I never cry, Regina. Even when he pushed me down the stairs, I didn't cry.'

Regina winced. 'Is that what happened…?'

There was a pause, and then Emma muttered a response. 'Yeah. Our staircase is quite… rickety. I didn't even know I'd cut myself until I realised that I had blood in my hair.'

'You got this from a wooden staircase?' Regina snapped, turning Emma's chin until she was meeting her gaze once more. 'Emma. You could have tetanus.'

'It's fine,' Emma said in a flat voice. 'There weren't even any splinters in it. I have a friend… he works in a clinic. He checked it for me.'

'But he didn't think to put anything antiseptic on it?'

'I don't have any insurance,' she muttered. 'I wouldn't let him.'

Regina's chest had gone tight. She finished applying the ointment and replaced it in the box, snapping the lid shut. Emma watched her the whole while, not blinking. She had stopped crying, but her green eyes still flashed with wetness.

'Have you left him for good?' Regina asked quietly.

Emma hesitated before she admitted, 'I don't know.'

'Then why did you come here?'

'I don't know,' Emma repeated. She sighed. 'I wanted to get away and… I didn't really have anybody else to go to. So I drove until I was in Maine, and then I drove until I found you.'

'Me?' Regina asked. She saw the flinch that juddered through Emma's body.

'The kid,' she corrected herself. 'I came to… I wanted to make sure that he was okay.'

Regina nodded. 'Of course. I understand.'

A silence stretched out between them and Regina found that she couldn't take her eyes off of Emma. The cut on her face, now slick with ointment but at least slightly less red, was ugly and protruding from her face. Her mouth was permanently downturned and her blonde hair was matted and knotty. She looked damaged, and yet Regina couldn't help but note just how striking she actually was – not just because she reminded her so clearly of her son, but because she was genuinely, undeniably beautiful.

She felt herself shiver, wondering where the hell that thought had come from.

'Would you like me to take you to meet your son, Miss Swan?' she heard herself asking. Emma's eyes snapped back up, suddenly filled with terror.

'I don't know.'

'He'll be excited to see you,' she said, reaching out to gently place her hand on Emma's arm. 'If we leave now, we might be there in time for him to wake up.'

Emma didn't respond right away. Even though she had chosen to come here, to find her son and to find Regina and to escape from her own painful reality for a few short hours – she wasn't sure that she was actually ready for it. She still felt like a child herself - she wasn't ready to accept that she somehow had her own.

So Regina stood and gently tugged on her hand, pulling her to her feet without a word. Emma let herself be led out of the room, out of the house, and into the black Mercedes that was sitting on the driveway. As they drove she felt the car humming beneath her feet. She still didn't speak.

When they pulled into the parking lot of the hospital she heard Regina sharply inhale, her eyes fixed on the concrete in front of them. She switched the engine off, and the silence deepened. Eventually, a pair of dark eyes flicked over to meet a pair of green ones.

'Are you ready?' she asked.

Emma blinked, and then responded with her own question. 'How did you leave?'

'Sorry?'

'Your husband,' she said, her forehead furrowing. Her green eyes were darting wildly over Regina's face, desperately trying to take in whatever detail she could give her. Regina remained completely still, one hand still looped around the steering wheel. 'How did you get out?'

Regina swallowed, turning back to the windscreen, and let herself think about it for a moment.

When she replied, her voice was low. 'Someone still cared about me. And they helped me to escape.'

'And did your husband ever find you again?' Emma asked, tilting her head to one side.

Regina forced herself to look back at her again.

'No,' she said simply. 'I was very fortunate. Because he… he died.'

Emma blinked. She looked equal parts shocked and wistful.

'Do you ever miss him?'

A flash of pain crossed Regina's face as she shook her head. 'Never, Miss Swan. Not even once.'

Emma nodded, looking down at her lap. Regina noticed that the red sleeves of her jacket had ridden up slightly, and there was a circle of bruises visible around one wrist.

'I think I'd like to meet Henry now,' she mumbled, swallowing. 'If that's okay.'

Regina paused. Then she reached out, placing her hand on Emma's wrist to gently cover up the bruises.

'Of course it is,' she said quietly, waiting for Emma to look back up at her before she forced a weak, but genuine, smile. 'Let's go.'

Neither of them moved for a moment. Emma bit at her bottom lip, her eyes darting across Regina's placid face once more.

Then she nodded, sucking in a breath through her teeth.

'Okay then,' she said, trying to smile back. 'I'm ready.'

* * *

 

_**A/N:** Thanks for reading! If you want to come and say hi on tumblr, I'm **starsthatburn** over there as well :)_


	2. Chapter 2

Regina knew the way through the hospital like it was her own home. Henry had been in there for three weeks now, and although he'd been shifted from room to room a couple of times, she had visited twice a day, every day, without fail. Her feet led her to his ward without any input from her brain whatsoever.

She glanced back over her shoulder to check that Emma was still with her. Her skin had turned a nasty shade of beige, which only made the greens and purples of her bruises stand out like someone had thrown paint at her. Regina faltered momentarily, and Emma nearly stumbled into her.

Not for the first time, it struck Regina just how big the can of worms that she was about to open was. She knew her son: Henry would meet Emma, and he wouldn't want her to leave again. And, as unlikely as it seemed, Regina felt like she knew a little about Emma too. This strange woman with whom she'd only spent about 20 minutes of her life wouldn't want to leave him either, and if she asked to stay, Regina wouldn't have the heart to tell her that she couldn't. Emma Swan was a threat to her entire happiness in Storybrooke, but there was a bigger danger out there that she knew she would never be able to send Emma back to. That danger had hurt her, and if she went back to him, he would probably break her entirely.

If Emma left of her own accord, then that was her decision. But if she asked to stay, she would only have to ask once.

Emma blinked confusedly at her, wondering why they'd stopped walking. The mix of colours on her face reminded Regina of the finger paintings Henry used to do years ago.

'Regina?' Emma asked, her voice shaking. 'Are you okay?'

Regina paused, pursing her lips. 'I think so. I'm just a bit…'

She wasn't sure how she planned to end that sentence, but luckily Emma seemed to understand where she had been going with it. She offered her a nervous smile.

'This is kind of scary for both of us, isn't it?'

'It is,' Regina replied, leaning back against the wall. It was covered in drawings that the children staying there had done, but even though her son's room was only down the corridor, none of them belonged to him.

Emma approached her, her hands tucked into the back pockets of her jeans. 'You're… you're a really good mother for doing this.'

The compliment made Regina look up in surprise. She couldn't remember the last time anyone had said that about her.

'Well,' she said, shrugging like it hadn't affected her whatsoever. 'When you meet Henry, you'll understand – it's very hard to say no to him.'

Emma smiled. 'I can imagine. If I had kids of my own, I don't think I'd be able to deny them anything.'

Regina narrowed her eyes, a curious expression on her face. Emma noticed it at once.

'So it's probably best that kids aren't in my future,' she continued, forcing a smile. 'The little bastards would probably bankrupt me.'

Regina allowed herself to laugh, the knot in her stomach loosening.

'It's true,' she said, levering herself off of the wall and starting to walk towards Henry's room once more. Emma walked beside her now, rather than two paces behind her. 'You have no idea how many video games there are in the world until your son  _has_ to have them all.'

'He likes video games?' Emma asked.

'He does. Henry likes most things that are based on other dimensions – video games, fairy tales, comic books. He likes to escape from this world whenever he can.'

Emma smiled, and Regina had to catch her breath when she caught the wistful look on her face. 'I can see the appeal.'

Henry's room was ahead, and through the glass Regina could see that he was awake. A nurse was stood beside his bed, scribbling something on his chart, and he was watching her curiously. Regina almost respected these nurses for their endless patience with his questions and his interest in everything they did. Taking his blood had become a battle of wills, since he was now demanding that, since he'd seen them doing it enough times, he should probably be allowed to do it himself.

Regina stopped walking, and Emma stilled alongside her.

'That's…' Regina started before she cleared her throat. 'That's his room.'

Emma caught sight of a small head with a mess of brown hair on top peeking over the edge of crisp white sheets. 'Oh. Right.'

Regina turned to look at her, and she knew it would have been a close call to decide which of them had gone paler.

Emma took a shaky breath and flexed her wrists, unable to take her eyes off of the small boy in the next room. 'This is kind of scary.'

Not for the first time, Regina found herself grateful for Emma's insistence on saying exactly what she felt.

'I know,' she sighed. When Emma didn't respond – still didn't look away from where Henry was now firing questions at his nurse – Regina gently took her elbow and led her to one side, where they couldn't see him anymore. 'Miss Swan. I know that your reasons for coming to Storybrooke were… complicated. I know that meeting your son for the first time seemed infinitely less terrifying when you were several hours away by car and there was still a chance that you wouldn't even manage to track us down. I understand all that. And if you decide that you can't do this after all, then I won't judge you. And I certainly won't force you.'

Emma blinked rapidly, her green eyes swimming with uncertainty. 'He's… he's actually a real kid. He's right  _there_. I never thought I'd see him again.'

Regina nodded, reaching out to touch Emma's arm and then pulling back at the last moment. 'I know.'

She watched as Emma turned her gaze up to the ceiling, saying a silent prayer to whoever might be listening to her for once. In the fierce, fluorescent glare of the hospital lights, the marks on her skin were infinitely more obvious; swelling away from her face like the bubbles in boiling water. In that new light, Regina could see a cut disappearing beneath her hairline and a long-healed scar that ran past one eye. She pressed her lips firmly together.

'I can tell him that I couldn't find you,' Regina said quietly. 'Or I can take you in there with me. Now, or another day. It's up to you.'

There was a pause, and Regina could see the indecision bombarding Emma from all sides. Then her green eyes slid back to look at her and Regina felt herself flinching under the weight of them.

'Why are you being so… understanding?' Emma asked quietly. There was a tick steadily working below Regina's left eye, and she could see the line of her jaw persistently hardening and softening like a heartbeat. 'If I were you, I would have told me to get lost a long time ago.'

Regina smiled weakly. 'Like I said, Miss Swan – I'll do just about anything for my son.'

'I know that,' Emma said, running her hands through her hair. 'I understand why you asked me to come here… I think. But, I don't understand why you're being so nice to me now, when you've already done your part.'

Regina paused, taking in the puzzled lines that ran between Emma's eyebrows and the sharp, downwards spikes at the corners of her mouth. Her bottom teeth were slightly crooked, she noticed. Her eyes were blue in the centre.

'I know what you meant,' she said quietly, folding her hands in front of her. 'But… I don't think now is the time to discuss that.'

Emma blinked. Regina's dark eyes were searching her face again; the way that they had been ever since she'd arrived on her doorstep an hour ago, and the concern that was bubbling beneath them was obvious. She sighed.

'Okay,' she said, nodding. 'Later, then.'

'Good,' Regina replied. She looked down at the ground between them, counting to five in her head. Then she looked back up, and said as firmly as she could manage, 'Are you coming with me to meet your son?'

Emma swallowed, visibly and painfully, and nodded. 'I just… I think you should go in first. I'll wait here.'

'Alright,' Regina said, and she began to walk away. Then she paused, turning back over her shoulder. 'No one is expecting anything from this, Miss Swan.'

'I know,' Emma nodded. 'Thanks.'

'Okay then,' Regina replied, nodding. 'Come in whenever you're ready.'

Hiding her shaking fists behind her back, Emma nodded in return.

* * *

'Henry.'

The boy looked over towards the door, his face breaking into a wobbly smile. 'Hey, Mom. Where have you been?'

Regina walked across to the bed, kissing her son on his warm forehead. She watched with some amusement as the nurse immediately scurried out of the room.

'I went home to get you something,' she said, dragging a chair to the side of his bed. She slid her purse – the largest one she owned – off of her shoulder and pulled his storybook out of it. Immediately, his white face lit up.

'Thanks,' he said, trying to reach out for it. His hands were trembling, and Regina could see the thin sheen of sweat that was prickling up across his forehead. His hair stuck to it.

He wouldn't have been able to hold the book even if he could have reached it.

Regina quickly placed it on the sheets covering his stomach, taking hold of his hands and placing them on top. He automatically squeezed his fingers around it.

'Thanks, Mom.'

His voice was smaller than it used to be. Regina sat down in the chair, pulling it as close to the bed as it would go so that she could take his hand. She was always surprised by how thin his fingers had gotten.

'I can't wait to be able to sit back up again,' he sighed, looking up at the ceiling. 'I'm bored.'

Regina tapped the book. 'Maybe bringing this wasn't such a good idea then – you've read it a hundred times. Reading it again probably won't help with the boredom.'

Henry turned his head to look at her, and she automatically reached out to push his damp hair away from his forehead.

'Every time I read it, I find something that I haven't seen before,' he said, smiling. 'That's what makes it so great.'

'I can read some of it to you,' Regina offered. 'If you like.'

'Maybe later,' Henry replied, still squeezing its edges.

'Oh, sweetheart,' Regina sighed, stroking her hand against his hot little head. 'You're still feeling no better?'

'No better,' Henry shrugged. 'But no worse, either. Is that a good sign?'

'I would say so,' Regina said, sounding a great deal more confident than she felt. 'Had you been awake long before I got here?'

'No,' he said. 'Only a few minutes. I thought I could hear you walking down the corridor. But that was a while ago, so maybe it wasn't you.'

'Oh,' Regina said, the knot in her stomach tightening once more. 'That probably was me, actually. You have good hearing.'

'Were you with somebody?' he asked. 'I thought I heard talking.'

There was a pause. Henry's eyes narrowed and, upon seeing the way that his mother's cheeks had turned crimson, he reached back out for her hand.

'Mom?' he asked slowly. 'What's happening?'

She opened her mouth to respond, although she wasn't entirely sure what she was going to say. Then a sound came from the other side of the room, and two heads turned to look over at it.

Emma was stood awkwardly in the doorway, her hands forced into the back pockets of her jeans and her whole body curved slightly to one side like she couldn't remember how she was supposed to hold herself. The mottled yellow tinge of her bruised skin looked even more jarring somehow, like Regina was seeing it through Henry's eyes instead of her own. But when she glanced back at her son, he didn't look afraid – he didn't even look happy. He just looked at Emma with a face that was completely impassive, like he'd expected her to walk through that door a million times before and now that she was finally here, he wasn't even surprised.

Regina cleared her throat. 'Henry. This is… Emma Swan. Emma, this is Henry. Your son.'

* * *

Regina had never enjoyed feeling like a spectator, and so when Emma had sat down in the chair next to hers and started a tentative conversation with her son, she had left the room. She surprised herself when she realised that she wasn't doing it out of bitterness, or out of guilt – she was doing it because this simply wasn't her moment to be a part of.

It still hurt, though. She sat down on a chair in the hallway, her hands clamped between her knees and her feet rocking back on her heels. She was there for twenty-two minutes – a fact that she knew because she watched every dreaded one of them ticking past on the clock that hung opposite her. With every one that passed, her stomach dropped lower and lower in her body.

But eventually she heard her name being called. It wasn't her son's voice, however – it was Emma's.

Regina jumped to her feet and went back into the room, where she found Emma stood nervously by the bed looking down at Henry's grey face.

'What's wrong?' Regina asked. Emma's head whipped around to face her.

'I don't know,' she said, stepping back to make room for his mother at the side of the bed. 'We were talking, and then suddenly he stopped and… Is he okay?'

Regina brushed the hair away from his forehead. His skin was sticky with sweat, but he was smiling ever so slightly.

'He just fell asleep, Miss Swan,' she said quietly, resting her hand against his cheek momentarily. 'He's easily exhausted at the moment. I'm sorry if he scared you.'

She turned back to look at Emma, whose eyes were even larger than normal. She was clutching at her necklace with one hand.

'He didn't scare me,' she choked out. 'Though I wouldn't put it past me to make his condition suddenly deteriorate just by being here.'

Regina raised one eyebrow as far as it would go. 'It didn't sound like things were going badly in here, Miss Swan. Stop being melodramatic.'

'Sorry,' Emma whispered, and even though she barely knew her, Regina knew that it wasn't like her to apologise. She frowned.

'It's fine,' she said, turning back to her son so that she could press a kiss against his hot forehead. 'We should probably leave him to get some rest, though. It's been a tiring afternoon, and he can sleep like the dead on a good day.'

Emma choked out a nervous laugh just as Henry's nurse returned. She looked at the two women and then back down to her patient.

'Madam Mayor,' she nodded. Regina felt Emma start from beside her. 'Is everything okay?'

'Fine,' Regina replied. 'I think Henry's had too much excitement for one day – he talked himself to sleep.'

The nurse laughed briefly, checking the monitor. 'It certainly looks like it. Will you be staying in case he wakes up?'

Regina looked back down at her son and knew without a doubt that he wouldn't be waking up for at least another ten hours.

'No, I don't think so,' she said softly, brushing her hand against his hair once more. She reached out for the book that was still resting on his stomach and moved it to the nightstand. 'He needs his rest, and I have… a prior engagement.'

She looked round at Emma to find that she was still watching her worriedly, her necklace tangled between two of her fingers. With her eyebrows curved upwards and her green eyes darting frantically between Regina and her son and back again, she looked so much like a cartoon puppy that Regina almost laughed.

She turned back to the nurse. 'You'll contact me if anything happens?'

'Of course, Madam Mayor,' the nurse replied, offering her a brief smile. 'Will we see you tomorrow morning?'

'Same time as normal,' Regina replied. She reached down for her purse, touched Henry's face one more time, and finally turned back to Emma.

'Ready to go, Miss Swan?'

Emma nodded, glancing back at Henry. 'Sure.'

They exited the room together and began to walk back down the corridor, falling into step next to each one another. As they walked, the silence between them crackled with a hundred questions that they each desperately wanted to ask the other. After a few moments, Emma settled on simply one.

'So… you're the mayor?'

Regina looked around at her and smiled her usual, wicked smile. 'Indeed I am, dear.'

'You probably could have mentioned that before.'

'Well now,' Regina said, opening the door and letting Emma walk ahead of her. 'That wouldn't have been anywhere  _near_ as much fun.'

They moved through the next corridor and towards the stairs that would lead them back to the foyer. Regina nodded her goodbyes to the receptionist and the various nurses that she had met on her regular visits, and then finally they were outside. Regina strode across the parking lot to her Mercedes, listening for the sounds of Emma stumbling along behind her.

'Regina,' she panted just as they reached the car. Regina turned around, her face perfectly composed and the keys dangling from one hand.

'Yes?'

'Where are we going?'

'Back to my house, dear. I think that we should probably have a talk.'

Emma nodded, but she was frowning. 'And then… afterwards… Do you want me to leave?'

It was getting dark out and a familiar misty rain was beginning to fall, but even in the fading light Regina could see the fear in Emma's eyes. If she told her to leave, there was only one place she could go.

She swallowed, her eyes never leaving the deep cut on Emma's face.

'No, Miss Swan,' she said softly. 'I'm not welcoming you with open arms into my life – not by any stretch. But if you want to stay in Storybrooke, then you can stay. I won't stop you.'

A sigh of relief visibly left Emma.

'Thank you,' she said, looking up to the darkening sky. 'Does this town have a motel?'

'It does,' Regina said, her eyes dropping to take in Emma's fading jeans and the red jacket that certainly didn't look like real leather. 'But you don't have to go there. Not tonight, at least. I have plenty of room, and maybe you shouldn't be left alone just yet.'

Emma bit her lip. 'You're… letting me stay with you?'

'For now,' Regina replied, sounding surprising calm even to her own ears. 'You can leave any time you want. But you should stay with me at least for tonight. I really have to insist.'

She watched as Emma's worried expression lessened just slightly. 'Why?'

'I dragged you here,' Regina said, turning to unlock the car. 'And you've been through a lot. Not just… at home, but here too. I just think it's a good idea for someone to be with you tonight.'

A part of Emma bristled automatically, all ready to snap that she didn't need a babysitter and how dare this strange woman even suggest it. But the strange woman in question was watching her patiently, one eyebrow raised as if she was already waiting for such an outburst, and suddenly it just seemed futile. Besides, Regina was right – she really didn't want to be alone.

She nodded. 'Thank you. Really.'

'There's nothing to thank me for,' Regina said briskly. 'But feel free to get in the car now so we don't both catch hypothermia and end up in the hospital alongside our son.'

Emma smiled and made her way round to the other side.

_Our son_.

She shivered, but it was just from the rain. She climbed into the car and shut the door, not looking over at Regina as she joined her.

* * *

As they walked back into the house, Regina noticed for the hundredth time that month how quiet it was without Henry around. It wasn't that he was a particularly noisy child: usually he was just sat in his room, reading through his storybook. But it was the familiar sounds that let Regina know he was there – his soft footsteps on the stairs, the faint muttering under his breath as he tried to talk himself through his math homework – that she really missed. The clocks ticked too loudly now that he was gone.

She swallowed and looked around at her guest, who was staring up at the spiral staircase like she'd never seen one before.

'I can give you a tour, if you like,' Regina said. Emma jumped at the sound of her voice. 'There are a few spare bedrooms. You can choose which one you prefer.'

'I'm okay on the couch,' Emma said, squaring her shoulders beneath her jacket. Regina narrowed her eyes, but decided not to argue.

'Shall I take that?' she said, gesturing to the red leather that Emma was wearing. She watched as the blonde woman paused, her fingers automatically curling into loose fists by her sides. Then her gaze dropped, and she shrugged her way out of it. Regina was shocked, but not altogether surprised, when she saw the dark purple bruises scattered across her toned arms.

As her eyes scanned over them, Regina could feel her body prickling with rage. There were fingerprints around Emma's wrists, and a large splotch on her upper arm that wasn't quite green and wasn't quite blue. Emma kept her eyes low, like she knew that she was being examined, and held the jacket out with a steady hand. Regina wordlessly took it, dragging her gaze away, and turned to the nearest coat hook.

'Did you bring any clothes?' she eventually managed to force out.

Emma looked up at last, blinking. 'Sorry?'

'To Storybrooke,' Regina said, her back still turned. As she hung the jacket up she let her eyes drift over it, taking in the flimsy leather and the small split in the lining. Her right hand held on to one of the sleeves for a moment longer than it needed to. 'Did you pack anything when you left?'

Swallowing, Emma said, 'No. It wasn't really a… planned trip. I wasn't thinking.'

'Okay,' Regina said, glancing across at the clock on the wall. 'Well, it isn't too late yet – the store might still be open. We can always go down there and…'

She caught sight of Emma's face and her sentence began to trail off: where it wasn't green or purple, her skin was pale and there were dark circles under her eyes that made her look 10 years older than Regina knew she was. Emma wasn't objecting to her suggestion, but Regina could see how exhausted she was.

She swallowed. 'Or I'm sure I have something here you can borrow for the night.'

'I don't need anything,' Emma protested at once. 'I'm fine like this.'

'You aren't sleeping in jeans on my couch, Miss Swan,' Regina said firmly, but Emma just rolled her eyes at her. For some strange reason the childish reaction made Regina want to smile.

Instead, she smoothed her hands down over her skirt and gestured towards her office. 'In that case – how would you like a glass of the best apple cider you've ever tasted?'

A tiny smile flickered at the corners of Emma's mouth. 'You got anything stronger?'

* * *

Regina could feel Emma gazing at the photos on the wall from behind her as she poured out two glasses of scotch. When she turned to face her, Emma's eyes had settled on a photo of Henry on his eighth birthday: he was standing over a bright blue birthday cake in the shape of a whale, grinning in the candlelight. Regina had stayed up all night making it.

She half expected to see sadness on Emma's face, or maybe even wistfulness, but instead she could only see disbelief in those swollen green eyes. Regina grazed past her, handing her a glass as she moved, and settled down in the chair opposite.

'How old was he there?' Emma asked, her gaze still lingering on the photograph.

'Eight,' Regina said, taking the opportunity to look over the bruises on Emma's arms once more. Emma was wearing a thin black t-shirt with a high neck, and as Regina's gaze reached the collar, she realised with a jolt that there were bruises there too.

'It's weird,' Emma said, making Regina jump. 'I can't see anything of myself in him.'

Tearing her gaze away from Emma's throat, Regina said, 'You can't? I see a lot of resemblance.'

'Maybe,' Emma said, tilting her head to one side before sighing loudly. Finally she looked back at Regina. 'I don't know. It's hard to start seeing myself in a kid who… who isn't really my son.'

Regina took a sip of her drink. 'He is by birth.'

'But not by anything else,' Emma said, and relief swept through Regina like a fire. 'He's your kid, not mine. I can't start looking for cute family traits now – it's a bit late for that.'

Regina's mouth was dry as she asked, 'How was it for you, meeting him today?'

'Honestly?' Emma said, lifting her glass to her lips. 'It was weird. I never thought I'd see him again, and to have him suddenly sat right in front of me, asking me all these questions that I never expected to have to answer… I thought I was having a panic attack.'

She laughed nervously, and it only made Regina feel sadder.

'I think that's a perfectly understandable reaction, Miss Swan.'

A frown flickered momentarily over Emma's face, like she was trying to decide something. After a moment she forced out, '…you know, "Miss Swan" isn't actually my name.'

'Yes, Emma, I do realise that.'

'No, I mean – Swan. It's not my name.'

Regina's stomach suddenly lurched. 'What?'  _You found the wrong woman?_

Seeing the panic in her face, Emma quickly shook her head. 'I mean, it  _was_  my name. My maiden name. But, you know – I got married. I'm not called that anymore.'

'Oh. I see,' Regina sighed, leaning back against the couch. She hesitated before asking, 'Why didn't you say anything when I first called you that?'

Emma shrugged. 'You calling me by my old name wasn't the weirdest thing to happen to me that day.'

'I suppose that's true,' Regina said, smiling slightly. 'Would you… would you prefer it if I called you by your married name?'

Emma hesitated, her eyes automatically flicking over to the window like she was half expecting somebody to be waiting for her there.

'No,' she said, pressing her lips together. 'I think it's better to just… stick with Swan.'

Regina nodded at once. 'I like Swan.'

'Me too,' Emma said, a nostalgic smile creeping over her lips in spite of herself. 'I miss it sometimes.'

'I'm guessing it wasn't your choice to change it,' Regina said, trying to sound casual. Emma's face darkened ever so slightly.

'Not exactly. My husband was pretty insistent.'

'Do you want to tell me about him?' Regina held her breath after asking the question: she barely knew Emma, but she'd already seen her explode with anger at least half a dozen times on the two occasions that she'd met her. She waited for that rage to spark up again.

But Emma just looked up at her with eyes that were completely exhausted, and she asked in return, 'What do you want to know?'

'Anything you want to tell me,' Regina said quietly, crossing her legs. Emma instinctively glanced down at them. 'I just think it might help to talk about it.'

'Regina…' Emma swallowed, looking down at the amber liquid swirling in her glass. 'You don't have to do this.'

'Do what?'

'This,' Emma gestured around her. 'You're being so… kind to me.'

Regina raised her eyebrows. 'That's not a word that is often used in reference to me, Miss Swan.'

'Well, it's the truth. You have every right to hate me and refuse to let me near you or your son, but instead you've let me come into your home and given me a place to stay for the night and you've already done more than enough for me – I'm not asking for any more.'

'That's precisely why I'm offering it, dear,' Regina said coolly, but her heart was pounding. 'You need help, but you haven't asked for it. You're trying to be strong in spite of everything. If you'd come in here crying about how hard your life is and demanding that I help you, then I wouldn't have done it – I would have slammed the door in your face, and I would have enjoyed it. But you aren't here to destroy me or my life: you're here because you have literally nowhere else to go, and to do that must have taken a strength that I certainly wouldn't have had. The least I can do is welcome you.'

Emma's cheeks had turned a sickly shade of grey and suddenly Regina was sure that she was going to vomit across her new rug.

'Have I crossed a line?' she heard herself asking, and she wanted to kick herself for how anxious she sounded.

Emma leaned back against the cushions, gripping her glass tighter. 'I didn't realise there was a line.'

'I suppose we haven't known each other long enough to draw one,' Regina smiled, noticing with relief that Emma's cheeks were regaining their colour. The paler she got, the more the cut on her cheek looked like a slash of lipstick. 'Maybe that will change the longer you stay here.'

'I'm only staying the night,' Emma said quickly, and Regina raised her eyebrows at her.

'In this house, or in this town?'

Emma didn't respond.

After a moment of silence, Regina sighed, placing her glass back on the table. 'What do you do, Miss Swan?'

'What do you mean?'

'Your job,' Regina clarified. 'I assume you work?'

'I… well,' Emma swallowed. 'Sometimes. I... I was a bail bondsperson, before I met my husband, but it's not exactly a nine-til-five job anymore.'

'He asked you to quit,' Regina said flatly, and it wasn't a question.

'He asked me to cut back,' Emma corrected her. 'He's protective of me, and it was a dangerous job.'

'The day we met, you told me he's a policeman,' Regina said. 'Was that true?'

'Yeah. He is.'

'Isn't that a dangerous job too?'

'Well… It can be, yes,' Emma said. 'He's had his fair share of accidents.'

Regina glanced down and saw that Emma was rubbing at her left wrist as she spoke, seemingly without noticing.

'How did you meet him?'

Emma tensed momentarily before she answered. 'Through work. Chasing these people around town… I crossed paths with the cops a lot. One night a perp reacted pretty badly to getting caught by me and started trying to attack me. A cop car passed by, and my husband was driving. He saved my life.'

Regina noticed the array of emotions that flickered across Emma's face as she spoke: love, and nostalgia. Regret. Disgust. Sadness. They all flew by in a muddy rainbow and when Emma looked up again, she looked more exhausted than ever.

'Here's the thing, Emma,' Regina said quietly. 'I always say that evil isn't born – it's made. Your husband was a good man once, I'm assuming. But he's not anymore.'

Emma's body suddenly went stiff, seizing up with resentment. 'He's not  _evil_.'

'He beats his wife,' Regina said flatly, watching as Emma's eyes began to narrow. 'He throws her down the stairs and pushes her out into the cold. I know it would be preferable for you if I sat back and ignored the marks on you and kept my questions to myself, but unfortunately that's not my style. You have bruises around your throat, Miss Swan. I can't just ignore that.'

Emma's face grew dark, like a rolling cloud filled with thunder. 'This is  _none_ of your—'

'You came to my town and walked into my house and you have made it my business,' Regina interrupted her calmly. 'You are more than welcome to leave, if you'd like to avoid my questions, but I think we'd both prefer it if you didn't do that.'

With her eyes flashing, Emma spat out, 'You are vile.'

'I was kind two minutes ago,' Regina said, lifting her glass to her lips. 'Are you always this changeable?'

'Are you deliberately trying to antagonise me?' Emma asked, her knees beginning to bounce up and down. The front door was only a few metres away, and she was suddenly desperate to go and walk through it.

'Yes,' Regina said simply, and at once Emma felt the hot air leave her. 'You obviously don't want to talk about this, but you need to. I'm not just going to sit here and listen to you defending him all night.'

'So, what? I'm just supposed to spill all my secrets to a complete stranger just because she tells me to?'

Regina's voice softened. 'Don't you find that sometimes it's easier to talk to a complete stranger?'

Emma paused, letting her eyes take in Regina properly: she was tiny, probably not even 5'5", but her presence was towering. She had dark eyes that managed to be sharp and soft all at once, and it was impossible to work out what she was thinking around 90 percent of the time. But right then, Emma could see the concern in the corners of her mouth, and she could see the lingering fear over what Emma's presence was going to do to her life in the faint lines around her eyes. Regina was like a painting, and every time she looked at her, Emma found something new there that she hadn't seen before. It was comforting and terrifying at the same time.

Emma sighed, looking back down at her glass. 'I wouldn't really know. I don't talk to anyone.'

'You don't have friends?'

'No. I guess I'm kind of a loner,' Emma said. Her expression flickered as she spoke, and at once Regina knew that that wasn't the real reason.

'And no family?'

'None,' Emma said flatly. 'I was left at the side of the road the day I was born. I never met my parents.'

A sharp pain stabbed at Regina's chest. Emma was tightly coiled and closed off, but Regina knew enough about her to understand just how lonely she must be: she was little better than an orphan, abandoned before anyone could have the chance to love her, and from what Regina had found out from the court records during her hunt for Henry's birth mother, she'd never been permanently adopted after that. She'd gotten pregnant at 17 and had given birth in jail, then had immediately given the baby up. God knows what had happened to her since then, but the bruises peppered across her delicate body told Regina that life had not treated her kindly. From day one, the world had been against her.

She couldn't blame Emma for clinging so desperately onto the one man who had finally shown her some love.

Regina wetted her lips. 'It can't have been easy to finally leave.'

Emma looked up immediately, surprised at the sadness in her voice.

'No,' she said slowly, frowning. 'It wasn't.'

But something in her tone told them both that she wasn't sure that she'd actually left yet.

Regina swallowed and nodded towards Emma's pocket, where she imagined her cell must be. 'Has he called yet?'

'I left my phone at home.'

'So he couldn't contact you?'

Silence. And then, 'So he couldn't track me.'

Another stab through her heart. Regina clasped her hands tightly together.

'You can't stay here forever,' she said softly. 'But I will help however I can. If you need money, or help finding a new apartment. I'll do whatever I can.'

Emma smiled weakly. 'There you go. Being kind again.'

Regina liked it when Emma smiled. In spite of the bruises that were smeared like tar across her skin, when she smiled her face lit up just enough to make the knot in Regina's chest loosen. Emma shifted slightly in her seat and as she did so, a lock of hair fell from behind her ear and tumbled in a gentle curl against her face. Something else seized at Regina's heart.

But just then, a rumbling sound interrupted the silence, and Emma looked down at her stomach – the source of the noise – with her cheeks flushing crimson.

'I'm so sorry,' she said, pressing her hands against her abdomen. She looked absolutely mortified.

Regina, however, felt infinitely worse.

'You should have told me you were hungry,' she said, frowning.

'I didn't notice,' Emma said, now unable to think of anything besides the cold, gnawing pain in her stomach. 'I've been a bit distracted.'

'When did you last eat?'

The pause told Regina everything she needed to know. After a moment of loaded silence, she stood up with a sigh and began to walk towards the kitchen, leaving Emma where she was.

Emma stayed in her seat for a minute, awkwardly waiting for Regina to either return or call out from the kitchen for her to join her. But the house remained eerily quiet, and after a moment she couldn't take it anymore. She pushed herself to her feet and immediately staggered, one hand clutching the arm of the sofa – drinking a glass of scotch on a stomach that had been empty for two days probably hadn't been her smartest idea.

After a few seconds she followed the path that Regina had taken, finding herself out in the enormous hallway faced with a closed kitchen door. She took a few steps towards it, still not hearing a noise from the other side, and awkwardly paused just on the threshold. She wasn't used to feeling so uncertain, but something about Regina made her brain short-circuit. Normally she would just walk straight in. Now, she had the weird desire to knock.

But before she could, the door swung open and Emma jumped a metre backwards, her heart jolting.

'What are you doing out here?' Regina asked, her eyes narrowing. They automatically sought out the cabinet just behind Emma, checking that all the silver was still there.

Trying to catch her breath, Emma gestured towards the kitchen. 'I wasn't sure if you wanted me to…'

Embarrassment grasped hold of her as Regina simply continued to frown. Then it slowly dawned on her what her guest meant, and a warm bubble of laughter erupted from her mouth.

'This isn't an elementary school slumber party, Miss Swan,' she said, turning back to the kitchen and gesturing for Emma to follow her. 'You don't have to wait to be offered a glass of water before you're allowed to drink anything.'

Emma slowly followed her, her cheeks still burning. The kitchen was exactly as she imagined it would be: huge, clean and warm. Regina headed towards the refrigerator and poked her head inside.

'I'm afraid I don't have a great deal in the way of sustenance,' she muttered from inside, relishing the coolness on her flushed face. 'I haven't had much time to go to the store recently.'

'That's okay,' Emma said, eyeing the stools that were pushed beneath the breakfast bar. Her head was still spinning from the alcohol and she desperately wanted to sit, but no matter what Regina had said 30 seconds ago, she didn't feel like she could just pull out a chair in this house. 'Really. I can just go out and get something, if you like.'

'You'll blow away,' Regina said. Without looking around, she added, 'Sit.'

Emma blinked and, despite her immediate inclination to ignore Regina's command, she pulled out a stool and hopped up onto it.

'I should have remembered to get something out of the freezer,' Regina muttered to herself as she scanned the barren fridge shelves. She didn't have guests round very often, but she prided herself on being a good hostess. Now she found herself completely short, and she had no idea why the idea was quite so appalling to her.

'Regina?' Emma said quietly, seeing the way that Regina's shoulders had tensed. 'Please don't start stressing. It's not your fault that you weren't exactly expecting company.'

Regina swallowed and closed the fridge door. Shame clung about her, and she hated herself for it – she shouldn't care what this woman thought of her, and she knew it. She should be content to hand her a Pop Tart and a glass of water and head off to bed, knowing that it was all she deserved anyway.

Instead her gaze found the inky bruises along the base of Emma's throat once more, and she heard herself asking, 'What would you like to eat?'

Emma blinked. She definitely hadn't expected to have a choice in this.

Her mind drifted for a single second, carried by a fog of quality scotch, and suddenly she knew exactly what she had a craving for.

'Pizza,' she said. Regina's eyes widened like she'd never heard of such a thing.

'Oh. I haven't had pizza in…' she tried to recollect, but she honestly had no idea. 'Years.'

'You don't like it?'

'Of course I like it,' Regina said, rolling her eyes. She walked over to the breakfast bar, leaning against the edge directly opposite Emma. 'I just don't let myself have it.'

Before she could stop herself, Emma looked pointedly down at Regina's tiny waist and flat stomach. The way that the mayor was leaning over, Emma could see a hint of cleavage out of the top of her button-down shirt.

Feeling the weight of Emma's gaze, Regina immediately pushed herself off of the bar and walked towards a nearby drawer. She pulled out a collection of takeout menus, and at once Emma noted how small the pile was compared to the one in her own kitchen drawer.

Regina sifted through them and found the menu for Stromboli's, Storybrooke's singular Italian restaurant.

'I can't guarantee it's any good,' she said, sliding the menu across to Emma. 'I've never been.'

'Never?'

'I'm afraid not.'

Emma's scanned hungrily over the list, her lips mouthing the words as she read them. 'But where do you go on dates?'

Regina thought she'd misheard her. 'I'm sorry?'

'It looks like this is a small town,' Emma said, her attention still focused on the menu in her hand. 'And Italian is always a safe choice for a first date. Hasn't anyone taken you there?'

Silence greeted her words. Regina had opened her mouth to respond, but she wasn't exactly sure what she was supposed to say to Emma: the only person she'd come close to dating in the last 28 years had been Graham, and she'd stopped seeing him months ago now. It had stopped meaning anything to her, and it wasn't worth the feeling of worthlessness in the morning.

Emma glanced up when the silence grew too heavy. 'What?'

A bitter seed had been planted in Regina's chest, but she pushed it down. Forcing a smile, she replied, 'Nothing. I haven't been there on a date, no.'

'Weird,' Emma said, looking back down at the menu. 'Your town must have a killer sushi bar.'

Regina's smile became slightly less forced, and she turned back to the fridge, pulling out one of the only items in there.

'Wine?' she asked, holding up a bottle. Emma hesitated.

'Is that okay?'

'Why wouldn't it be?' Regina responded, opening a cupboard and reaching up to the top shelf for two glasses. 'Stop looking so anxious. You're my guest, after all.'

'Hardly,' Emma muttered to herself, her appetite fading slightly. 'I've just foisted myself onto you and you haven't had the heart to tell me to leave.'

Regina turned and raised her eyebrows at her.

'Miss Swan,' she said slowly, her words drawling. 'One thing that you should know about me is that I  _never_  do things unless I want to do them. That includes letting you stay here.'

She watched as Emma nervously wetted her lips. 'You're sure?'

'Quite sure,' Regina said, uncorking the bottle. 'I could have told you the way to Granny's, but I didn't. I made that choice. Now please stop feeling so uncomfortable – I promise you that this is fine.'

Emma swallowed, nodding. 'Alright. Thank you.'

'You're welcome,' Regina said, pouring out two glasses of cold wine. She picked them both up by the stems and walked back towards the bar, nodding down at the menu. 'Now. Have you decided what you would like to eat?'

Emma looked back down at the paper in question. 'I'm torn. What are you getting?'

'I'm not getting anything,' Regina said, nudging one glass towards her. Emma gazed up at her, utterly appalled.

'Why not?'

'Because I don't eat junk food.'

'What,  _ever_?'

'Very rarely,' Regina said, smiling at the disgraced look on Emma's face. 'Only on special occasions.'

'Are you saying that today isn't special?' Emma asked, coyly raising an eyebrow, and Regina was surprised by how her teasing didn't bother her.

'That's exactly what I'm saying,' Regina said, raising her glass to her lips. As she spoke, she let her eyes trail down Emma's body, assessing her in a way that made her guest's skin prickle. 'Don't flatter yourself, dear.'

Emma knew that she was joking – she could see the playful smile hidden behind her wine glass – but her words sent electricity shooting from the roots of her hair all the way down to her toes. She shifted nervously.

'You have to eat, Regina,' she said softly, and Regina blinked in surprise. 'Please. My treat.'

Without meaning to, Regina felt herself looking at Emma's well-worn clothes and bruised wrists once more. 'I'm not letting you pay.'

'You don't have a choice,' Emma said, pushing the menu towards her. 'Choose what you want.'

Regina fell quiet for a moment, looking down at the shiny, plasticy paper with fake leaves drawn onto every corner. She reached out a hand to pick it up. Then something that felt like anxiety wrapped its fingers around her stomach, and she stopped herself. She put her glass back to her lips instead.

'You choose for me,' she said, turning away and walking towards the door. '108 Mifflin Street. I'll go get the plates.'

The door swung shut behind her, leaving Emma staring confusedly after her. With a sigh, she pulled the menu back towards her.

She scanned over the obnoxiously curly typeface and considered the options. She'd only just met Regina, and yet she already knew what she was expected to pick for her: the vegetable pizza. The one that would let the mayor convince herself that she wasn't being  _that_ unhealthy, so it was okay. But Emma had felt the fire in Regina a million times since they'd first met, and she knew that's not what she really wanted. She scanned her eyes over the meat section – spicy sausage. Salami. Lots of it.

She walked over to the kitchen phone and dialled the number on the front of the menu. As it rang, she reached into her back pocket and pulled out her wallet. She swallowed as she looked into it.

Someone picked up at the other end. 'Hello?'

'Hi. I'd like to order…' Emma looked back at the menu and did a quick calculation, then breathed a sigh of relief. '…two pizzas, please.'


	3. Chapter 3

When Emma returned from the front door with two steaming pizza boxes, Regina was nowhere to be found.

'Regina?' she called out, wincing at the foreignness of her loud voice in that pristine house. When there was no response, she sighed, walking towards the open living room door. It was warm in there and the lights were dim, and Emma found herself being automatically drawn in.

She dropped the boxes on the coffee table and settled herself cross-legged on the floor in the space between the table and the couch, the smell of cheese and spices filling her nose.

After a moment she heard a door opening, and Regina came out into the hallway.

'Miss Swan?'

'I'm in here.'

Heeled footsteps approached her, and then Regina was in the doorway, watching her bemusedly with a wine glass in either hand. 'What are you doing?'

'Waiting for you,' Emma said, looking pointedly at the pizza boxes.

'But why are you in here?' Regina said, taking a step into the room. 'And why are you sitting on the floor?'

'Because we're having pizza,' Emma said, as if this was self-explanatory.

'But I set the dining room table.'

There was a long, loaded pause.

'Regina,' Emma said. 'You do not eat takeout at a dining room table. You eat it on the floor, in front of a TV. Now sit down.'

Regina narrowed her eyes. 'You've gotten comfortable, it would seem.'

'No. I'm just hungry,' Emma said, gesturing to the floor beside her. She leaned back against the couch. 'Sit.'

Regina rolled her eyes. 'Let me go and get my plate.'

'No plates,' Emma responded, and for some inexplicable reason Regina found herself halting in the doorway. 'Sit.'

Regina narrowed her eyes once more, but eventually the lure of the pizza and the couch and the warm room was too much for her. She stepped inside, nudging the door shut behind her with her hip, and placed both of the glasses on the coffee table. She hesitated for a moment, then sat down on the edge of the couch.

At once Emma looked round at her, an accusing expression on her face.

'Sitting on the floor is one step too far for me, Miss Swan,' Regina said, smoothing her hands over her skirt. 'Let's call this a compromise.'

Emma rolled her eyes, and all at once Regina learned another thing about her son's birth mother: she turned into a sulky teenager when she got too hungry.

'Fine,' Emma sighed, reaching out for one of the boxes and lifting the lid. She placed it in her own lap before she passed the other one to Regina.

She could smell the salami before she opened the box.

'Well,' Regina said, laughing. 'That's a lot of meat.'

Emma suddenly froze. 'You're not a vegetarian, are you?'

'Absolutely not,' Regina said, and she couldn't hide the almost lustful glint in her eye as she stared down at the pizza in front of her. 'I just wouldn't have expected you to choose this for me.'

Emma smirked to herself. 'I'm good at reading people.'

Then she paused. She knew what Regina must be thinking then.

_Except for the man you decided to marry._

She waited for the words, but Regina just let out a moan. Emma jumped in her seat and spun around.

'Oh my god,' Regina mumbled around a mouthful of pizza. 'This is incredible.'

Emma grinned. 'Have I converted you?'

'I hardly needed converting to junk food, Miss Swan,' Regina rolled her eyes. 'But you've certainly reminded me of the taste of it.'

The smile on Emma's face was half barely concealed glee, and half something else. Something softer, that looked like relief.

Regina swallowed her mouthful of pizza and nodded towards Emma's own box, a slice still raised to her lips. 'What did you get?'

'Cheese,' Emma said by way of explanation. When she opened the box, Regina nearly choked.

'Oh my  _god_.'

'What?' Emma said, staring down at it with loving eyes. 'I like mozzarella.'

'That is  _swimming_ in it, Miss Swan,' Regina said, covering her mouth as she laughed. 'Did you clean the restaurant out?'

'Say what you want,' Emma said, not even turning her head. She reached into the box and somehow peeled a slice away from its family, watching as the hot, melted cheese slid off of the base and down onto her fingers. 'This is the way god intended pizza to be.'

Regina watched with some fascination as Emma manoeuvred the slice into her mouth. As soon as it touched her tongue, Emma moaned with satisfaction, letting her head fall slightly backwards.

'You are quite something,' Regina said, taking another bite of her own pizza. 'I can see where Henry gets it from.'

At once, Emma paused in her chewing. She turned her head slightly.

'Gets what?'

'The eating habits,' Regina said as casually as she could. 'I've never seen someone eat as enthusiastically as he does before now.'

After a beat, Emma smiled weakly. 'I'm not sure that's genetic.'

'Probably not,' Regina conceded. 'But the similarities are still there.'

Emma's smiled flickered momentarily before she turned back to her food. They ate in silence for a few minutes.

'You don't have any other children, do you?' Regina suddenly heard herself asking. Once again, Emma turned to face her, her bruised face questioning and cautious.

'No,' she responded, and Regina never knew that so much sadness could be forced into one word.

'Is there… a reason for that?'

Emma shrugged, looking down at the strings of cheese that were dangling from her pizza. 'I haven't been married that long. And it's just not… not the right time.'

Regina swallowed. The way that Emma was sitting, with her back mostly turned and her head tilting forwards, Regina could see the bruises around her neck all too clearly. There were fingerprints embedded deeper than she'd thought was possible along the nodules of her spine, and two thumb prints at the hollow of her throat. They made Regina shudder.

Without thinking, she reached out a hand and pushed Emma's curls away from her neck. Emma jumped – but she didn't pull away.

'It's definitely not the right time,' Regina said, tracing a single finger over the nearest bruise. It was dark blue and surrounded by mottled yellow. She thought that she could still make out the hair-thin lines of a strange man's fingerprints.

It wasn't long before Emma shrugged away from her touch.

'So,' she said, taking another bite of her pizza. 'Do you go and see Henry every day?'

'Twice a day,' Regina said. 'Before and after work. I try and stay there all evening.'

'And is he…' Emma paused. 'Is he okay on his own all day?'

Regina automatically bristled, ready to defend herself and her job and her position as Henry's mother. But Emma was watching her anxiously, and she knew that she hadn't meant it like that.

Sighing, Regina said, 'I don't really know. He says he is, and I know he's brave, but I still feel guilty.'

'I can imagine,' Emma said. 'But I guess, as mayor, you don't really have a choice. You basically have two full-time jobs.'

Regina blinked, taking this in. 'Yes. Exactly.'

Emma shook her head, more to herself than to Regina. 'I really don't know how you do it. Being a single mom – that must be the most stressful job in the world. I know I sure as hell didn't fancy it.'

Something tingled down Regina's spine, and for the first time that evening she felt a flicker of anger in the base of her stomach. She narrowed her eyes at the back of Emma's head.

'That's a bit blasé, wouldn't you say?'

Emma froze. She didn't turn around. 'I didn't mean it like that.'

'I should hope not, Miss Swan,' Regina said coolly, dropping her slice of pizza back into the box. 'Because that is my son, and you do not get to talk about him that way.'

Emma's posture slumped forwards, and Regina saw her swallowing.

'Regina,' she said quietly, her eyes down. 'I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. I'm just… not really comfortable right now. I made an awkward joke.'

'Henry isn't a  _joke_.'

Part of her was expecting Emma to snap back at her, but she didn't seem to react at all. Her body was rigid.

'...I know he's not.'

In a lot of ways, it was a disappointing reaction. Regina frowned, ready to snidely accept Emma's apology and move on – but then she looked down. Emma's hands were trembling in her lap.

When Regina slowly reached out, ready to put a hand on her shoulder, Emma immediately flinched.

Regina swallowed, withdrawing her arm.

_She doesn't like being shouted at_.

The realisation made her want to weep, and with that feeling her anger from seconds earlier ebbed away entirely.

'It's okay,' Regina said quietly. When Emma still didn't react, she let out an impatient sigh. 'I may have overreacted. I'm… a bit stressed. As I'm sure you can imagine.'

Emma turned her head an inch. 'I know. I'm sorry.'

'Stop apologising,' Regina said, picking her slice of pizza back up again. 'And finish your food. Unless you've just realised that you made a horrible mistake ordering all that cheese?'

Emma's head still hung over her chest, but Regina saw the hint of a smile on her face. 'Never.'

'Then show me what you're capable of,' Regina said, and watched with some relief as Emma re-opened her box.

* * *

When Regina came downstairs with the pile of blankets in her arms, she found Emma stood next to the couch, looking down at it with her hands on her hips.

'Having second thoughts?'

Emma looked up and smiled briefly. 'No. It's good.'

'Are you sure?' Regina said, dropping the pile at one end of the sofa. 'There's still a perfectly good guest bed waiting upstairs. Two, in fact.'

'I don't need a bed, Regina,' Emma said. 'I'm only crashing here. The couch is just fine.'

Regina shrugged like it didn't bother her either way, but the thought of Emma curled up down here by herself all night filled her with a strange bitterness. 'Suit yourself.'

She rummaged through the pile that she'd just brought downstairs, separating the blankets from the pillows. Then she paused, swallowing.

'I brought you these too,' she said, handing something to Emma without lifting her eyes. Emma slowly reached out and took the soft object.

'Pyjamas?'

Regina went back to arranging the blankets, fluffing up the pillows and placing them at the opposite end of the couch.

'They're just spare ones that I have lying around. You don't have to wear them if you don't want to.'

Emma lifted them closer to her face: there was a pair of grey flannel pyjama pants and a baggy black shirt. They smelled like clean laundry.

She held them back out. 'I can't take your clothes, Regina.'

'Do they look like something I'd wear?' Regina responded, more harshly than she'd intended. 'Just leave them on the coffee table then. I'm not going to force you.'

Emma blinked, a sudden lump rising up in her throat. She held the soft clothes to her stomach.

'Okay,' she said quietly. 'Thank you anyway.'

Regina finished spreading the blankets across the couch and finally stood upright, turning to face her guest. Emma was taller than her by a good few inches, but she was so curved in on herself that she appeared half her size. Her green eyes were fixed to the floor.

Regina took a step closer, crossing her arms over her chest. She was only inches away from Emma, and up this close she could see that there was an eyelash resting on one cheek. She could see the tiny, glistening patches of healing flesh in the cut that had been carved out of her face.

'Emma,' she said quietly, surprising herself with how sincere she sounded. 'Please don't stay down here by yourself.'

She waited for Emma to look up at her. When she did, the eyelash on her cheek fluttered away.

'I'm not a child,' she said, forcing a smile. But to Regina, that's exactly what she was – she knew that Emma would spend the night panicking at every creak in the walls, at every flash of headlights on the road outside. She knew that any shadow at the window would keep her awake for hours. Emma was already twitching in the dim light, those old pyjamas still clamped against her stomach, and if she'd asked Regina then to stay down there with her, Regina would have agreed at once.

But she didn't ask. She forced herself to stand upright, her blonde hair tumbling across one shoulder, and she offered Regina a smile that was very nearly genuine.

'You should go to bed,' she said. 'It's getting late.'

Regina glanced up at the clock: it was ten thirty.  _Only ten thirty? It feels like two._

She swallowed. 'Shall I show you where the bathroom is?'

'I know where it is. I went earlier, remember?'

'But that's just the downstairs—'

'Regina,' Emma interrupted, that old look of exhaustion tugging at her features again. 'It's okay. I'll be fine. You should go.'

There was a long pause. Regina couldn't be sure if it was from tiredness or from sadness, but she suddenly felt an overwhelming urge to reach out and hug her.

'Very well,' she said. 'If you need anything, my room is at the top of the stairs and to the left. End of the corridor.'

'I'll be fine.'

'Don't be afraid to wake me up,' Regina said, and suddenly it was very important to her that Emma knew that. 'Really. Okay?'

A frown flickered across Emma's face at the intensity of her gaze.

'Okay.'

'Good,' Regina nodded, taking one last look around the room. 'Help yourself to whatever you want from the kitchen.'

'Okay,' Emma repeated. She still held onto the pyjamas.

Eventually, Regina nodded a final time and turned away, headed towards the door.

'Thank you, Regina.' The voice came from behind her and made her stop in her tracks.

She turned her head. 'For what?'

Emma already looked like she regretted saying anything. 'For… letting me stay.'

It was half a thank you. Half of what she actually wanted to say. But it was enough, and Regina nodded.

'You're welcome,' she said, resting one hand against the doorframe. 'Goodnight, Miss Swan.'

'Goodnight.'

Regina finally left the room, heading up the stairs with a heavy weight in her stomach.

* * *

Emma stood in front of the bathroom mirror, cold water dripping off of her face. She winced as the soap stung against the torn flesh on her cheek.

She examined herself in the glaring light as she patted her skin dry with one of Regina's guest towels. She seemed to look older every time she looked into a mirror nowadays. The dark circles under her eyes were more pronounced, and as the bruises on her face finally began to heal, the rest of her just looked more broken. The lines by her eyes were cracks. The hollows of her eyes were dents.

She rubbed a hand across her face, letting it rest over her eyes for a second. It still smelled like home.

She hated herself for feeling homesick already.

Emma had bought the house in Boston three years ago, only six months after she and her husband had met. The beatings hadn't started until after they had gotten married, but from day one, things had been… not quite right.

When he'd asked her to stop working, she had resisted. He stopped speaking to her for a week.

When he told her that he wanted kids and she'd said she wasn't ready, her birth control pills went missing.

He loved her and kissed her gently, and he could make her laugh on her very crappiest days. But when they went out together, his hand would forever stay at the small of her back, guiding her around the room and away from other people. If someone came over to talk to Emma while he was in the bathroom, she would panic, inwardly begging them to leave again, knowing then – even before things really started to go wrong – that if he came back to find another man talking to his girlfriend, the rest of the evening would have been ruined.

Then he'd had his accident. The laughter became less frequent. He got better, and they got married, and but all the while, things were changing.

Emma looked down and hitched up her shirt a few inches. Her biggest scar was there: it was a mottled white mess across one hip from where he'd pushed her into a wall and she'd managed to catch herself on the door handle. That day, he had come home from work and suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere, told her that he was afraid she was going to leave him. He wasn't the man she'd fallen in love with and so she was going to leave and break his heart, and he couldn't live without her. So he'd pushed her about and watched her cry, and then he locked her in the bedroom and dragged the cabinet from the hallway in front of the door, just in case. He'd gone out and left her there all night, and most of the next day.

When he came home, he hadn't apologised. Her hip was still bleeding and she hadn't had a drink of water in 22 hours, and she fell into his arms when he opened them.

Emma glanced down at the dents on her knuckles from where she'd tried to punch the window out that day. She wasn't as strong as she used to be, and all she'd managed to do was hurt herself.

The bruises and scars that were scattered all over her body were utterly familiar to her now, but it was so rare that he left marks on her face that she couldn't stop staring at them. In a way, she almost liked them –  _finally_ , there was something that told her that this wasn't right. Up until now she'd been able to convince herself that their marriage was okay – he  _did_ love her. He just had anger issues. It wasn't his fault. She provoked him, and it was only natural that he lashed out sometimes.

But a week ago, he'd come home drunk, his dark hair falling into his eyes and a cruel sneer on his lips. Emma had been getting ready for bed. She froze when she saw him in the doorway.

'What?' he had snapped at her. Immediately she turned away, going back to the shirt she'd been folding.

'Nothing,' she said, her heart already pounding. She took a breath. 'You just scared me.'

He walked slowly into the room, his steps somehow steady even though Emma could see from the bleary look in his eyes that he had had far too much to drink.

For a second there was nothing. Then she felt the familiar leather jacket against her back. She could smell the rum on him.

She swallowed. 'Did you have a good time?'

His right hand reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. In spite of the fear that was bubbling up inside her stomach, she felt a shiver run down her spine.

'It was alright,' he murmured against the back of her head. 'I missed you, though.'

Emma smiled. 'I missed you too.'

His other hand – the one that bothered him far more than it bothered her – rested on her waist. 'What did you get up to while I was gone?'

His good hand was straying away from her hair, trailing down her shoulder and around to her stomach. It settled just above her navel.

Emma closed her eyes. 'Not much. I did some laundry. Watched some TV.'

'Anything else?' he asked, pressing his lips against the back of her neck.

'Not really,' she said, holding her body very still. 'Why?'

'I just wanted to make sure you didn't do anything to tire yourself out,' he murmured, lifting his hand off of her stomach and reaching around to cup one of her breasts. 'I have plans for you.'

At the exact same moment, Emma felt herself shiver and flinch. He was drunk, and when he was drunk he was always just seconds away from getting aggressive. Having sex in those moments was never particularly enjoyable.

'Now?' she asked, trying to laugh. 'Aren't you tired?'

He suddenly pushed her forwards, wedging her against the wall, and pressed his crotch against her ass.

'Does it feel like I'm tired?'

Emma swallowed. 'No. Have you eaten yet?'

'No, but give me two minutes and I will be.'

'Maybe I should make you some dinner. It might—'

'I don't want any bloody dinner,' he hissed in her ear, dragging his hand down from her breasts to the waistband of her jeans. 'Are you  _sure_ you haven't been doing anything while I've been out all day?'

'Of course I haven't,' Emma said, trying to turn around to face him. Whenever she was able to look him in the eye, it was slightly easier to get through to him. But he kept her pressed against the wall, the smell of alcohol reeking from him and the stiffness in his jeans rubbing against her ass. 'I just—'

'Don't,' he interrupted, undoing the button on her jeans. 'Stop talking.'

Emma swallowed, that familiar panic rising up inside her. The wall was cold against her cheek and the rubbery feeling of his left hand on her waist was starting to make her feel sick.

'Killian—'

'I said,  _shut up_ ,' he snapped. He pulled her zipper down and slid his good hand inside. As usual, when he found her panties completely dry, he hissed with annoyance.

'What's the problem, Emma?'

'There's… there's no problem,' she said, once again trying to turn around. He forced her back. He kept on prodding at her panties, barely able to move his fingers because of how firmly he had her pressed up against the wall. Emma grimaced. 'I just wasn't exactly expecting this. I might need a minute to—'

And all of a sudden, he was gone. He tore his hand out of her jeans and took a step back, leaving her to stagger sideways. When she regained her balance, she turned to face him, hating the look in his eye. She pressed her back against the wall.

'What is it?' she asked.

Killian glowered at her. His eyes trailed from her flushed cheeks to her wrinkled tank top down to her unzipped jeans.

'Who was here today, Emma?'

Emma's stomach dropped. It was always the same conversation, again and again.

'No one. I've been by myself.'

'Then why are you pulling away from me?' he demanded. His cheap, prosthetic hand was dangling like a rubber glove by his side. It was the best one that he had been able to afford. 'What's wrong with you?'

A surge of familiar resentment started to burn in Emma's throat. 'Nothing is  _wrong_ with me. You're just drunk and I wasn't expecting this. I don't have to be ready to have sex with you 24 hours a day, Killian.'

His eyes immediately narrowed. 'I'm sorry?'

Whenever his voice went cold like that, Emma felt like her blood had stopped moving. The anger inside her immediately subsided.

'I just…' she said, desperately wanting to do up her jeans. 'I'm not really in the mood. That's all.'

Killian just looked at her, disgust dripping from the downward curl of his mouth.

'You expect me to believe a whore like you  _isn't_ in the mood?'

It was Emma's least favourite word, and he knew it. He sneered at her as he said it.

Swallowing down the shame that was licking at her insides, Emma said, 'Can I please go and make you some food?'

'Why?'

'To sober you up a bit.'

'I'm not drunk, woman.'

'Just let me go and make you something, Killian,' she asked, cringing at how close to tears she sounded. 'Please.'

Her husband watched her for a moment, his upper lip curling. And then he rolled his eyes.

'Fine,' he said, shrugging off his leather jacket and dropping it onto the bed. 'Go.'

Emma turned at once, the knot in her chest loosening ever so slightly. She zipped her jeans back up as she rushed over to the stairs.

'Wait.'

The voice from behind her made her halt in her tracks. She rested one hand on the railing and closed her eyes.

'Turn around.'

She did as she was told. Killian was stood in the doorway to their bedroom, the light streaming out from behind him into the pitch-black hall. Shadows engulfed his face, but Emma could see the frown there.

'What's wrong?' she asked. He took a step towards her.

'Move your hair,' he said. She blinked. Her curls were spread across her shoulders, half falling down over her chest and half covering her back. She glanced down at them.

'Why?'

'Just do as you're goddamn told for once,' Killian barked at her, and Emma flinched. She reached up and gathered her hair up into a single bunch, pulling it away from her body.

Killian took another step into the hall, peering down at her. Emma stayed still, holding her hair in a loose ponytail at the back of her neck.

'What is that?' he asked. At once, Emma felt her insides recoiling. She recognised that voice, and it made her want to run. Always.

She followed his gaze down to her body. It took a moment for her to realise what he was referring to.

'This?' she asked, pointing to the dark splotch just below her collarbone.

'Yes, Emma,' Killian bit out, crossing his arms over his chest. Even in the dark, Emma could see that his eyes were burning. 'That.'

'It's… a bruise, Killian,' Emma said quietly, because ordinarily, she never acknowledged her injuries out loud. Neither of them did. She could be purple across one side of her body and unable to sit down for a week, but it was never discussed. Killian would just help her if he was in a good mood, or ignore her if he wasn't.

'It's a fucking hickie,' he snapped. Emma blinked.

'No, it isn't,' she murmured, letting go of her hair. 'I promise you.'

'Oh, because your promises mean so much?'

Emma blinked several times, trying to take a deep breath.

'Killian,' she said as slowly and patiently as she could manage. 'It's just a bruise. Don't you… don't you remember what happened on Saturday?'

Killian scoffed at her, taking another step closer. 'Don't lie to me, Emma.'

'I'm not  _lying_ ,' Emma snapped, tears prickling at her eyes. 'You pushed me, remember? I fell into the cabinet and it left a bruise.  _Remember_?'

At once, her husband stopped moving. His eyes met hers with a flash of malice that she hadn't seen in a long time.

'I can't believe you would use that against me.'

Emma could feel panic starting to fizz in her stomach like it had been dropped in a fryer.

'I'm not—'

'How  _dare_  you?' he demanded, his good hand suddenly reaching out and grabbing hold of her wrist. He tugged her closer, pulling her flat against his chest. 'You want to blame  _me_  for this? You're here at home, whoring around all day, and when I decide to call you on it you bring up that… that  _one_ mistake I made? Is this suddenly _my_  fault?'

When a tear dribbled down Emma's cheek, Killian released her wrist and reached out to slap her sharply across the face.

'Don't you dare start crying,' he hissed. 'God. Sometimes I can't even bear to look at you.'

'Killian,' Emma whimpered, pressing her hand to her cheek. 'I haven't done anything! I'm sorry I brought up what… what happened, but I promise you, this isn't a—'

'Stop  _promising_  me!' Killian shouted, pushing her abruptly backwards. She hit the sharp corner of the wall that marked the top of the staircase with a thud. 'You've been promising shit for too long, Emma. You promised to love me in sickness and in health, and look at you!  _This_ happens,' he lifted up his prosthetic hand, 'and suddenly you can hardly stand to look at me.'

Sometimes, Emma wished that he would hit her. It would certainly hurt less.

'Killian,' she whispered. 'I've told you a hundred times – I don't  _care_ about that. I've never cared. I'm not going to leave you because you lost your hand and I wish you would stop thinking that I am. I love you.'

'You're a liar,' he spat at her, suddenly taking two strides across the hall until he was pressed up against her body. He grabbed her throat with his right hand, the stench of rum hovering between them. 'The second you got that phone call from the hospital, you were wondering how you could get out of this.'

'I  _married_ you after you got out of hospital,' Emma choked out from beneath his fingers, and the rage in his eyes grew stronger. 'How  _dare_ you say that—'

Her sentence was cut off by and another slap. She tried to press her hand to her face, but he caught her by the wrist.

'Don't you  _ever_ speak to me that way,' he hissed in her ear. As he pushed her back against the wall, she whimpered, struggling under his weight. 'God. Whatever did I do to deserve you? I'd take losing my hand all over again over you any day.'

Emma sniffed, but couldn't bring herself to speak. She closed her eyes, wriggling against him.

'I could do a lot better than you, you know,' he muttered, reaching up with his left hand to brush her hair away from his face. 'Maybe I should stop being so worried about you leaving me and instead start considering leaving  _you_.'

As much as she hated herself for it, Emma felt a drop of utter panic in her stomach.

'I'm not going to leave you, Killian,' she whimpered. 'Please don't—'

'Oh, shut up,' he groaned. 'Stop  _whining_. I can't stand listening to it anymore. All you ever do is complain and cry and make me feel guilty. I'm sick of it.'

'I don't—'

'Shut  _up_ ,' he roared into her ear, sneering as she flinched away. 'I'm sick of this. Sick of you. You need to get out of my house.'

'Killian, I'm not—'

'Get out.'

'Please,' Emma begged. Her husband let go of her then, taking a step backwards. She collapsed back against the wall. 'I'm not going anywhere.'

'Yes, you bloody are,' he snapped, crossing his arms. He nodded towards the stairs that were directly to her left. 'Off you go, love.'

There was a pause. And then Emma said as firmly as she could manage, 'No.'

Killian raised his eyebrows, possibly in surprise. And then he replied, 'Alright then.'

He stepped towards her and wrapped his arm around her waist, moving them both onto the top step. Emma wriggled against him, feeling herself tipping forwards over the stairs. He held on more tightly, walking down another step and dragging his wife alongside him.

'Killian, stop it,' Emma gasped, frantically trying to pull away from him. The wooden staircase creaked dangerously under their weight and she could feel the house tilting around her as she stared down towards the bottom. 'Please. Stop it.'

'I want you out of my house,' Killian said, and Emma's heart broke all over again when she heard just how calm he sounded. She fought even harder, bucking her body to try and get back up to the hallway.

'Let go of me!'

'Get.  _Out_ ,' he hissed, tugging her more forcefully. Emma raised a hand and heard the slap of it connecting against the side of his face long before she could register what she'd done. As soon as she realised, she froze. Killian stared down at her.

There was a pause before he said in his flattest voice, 'You fucking bitch.'

And suddenly she was falling. His arm had released her waist and, with a violent shove, he had sent her toppling down the stairs. The wooden steps belted against her as she fell, and suddenly there was a ripping sound. She thought it was her shirt. She didn't register the pain in her face.

She landed in a heap at the bottom of the stairs and tried desperately to catch her breath, but her eyes had adjusted to the darkness and she could see her husband coming down after her. He was rolling up his sleeves.

Without thinking, Emma pushed herself up onto her hands and started scrabbling away from the steps. Her back hit the wall and she yelped, turning onto her stomach so she could crawl away. She hadn't even made it a metre before a hand had grabbed her ankle and tugged her backwards.

He flipped her over and climbed on top of her waist, raining his fists down on her. He never punched her in the face normally: slaps rarely left marks, and bruises elsewhere could be covered up. Black eyes and broken noses raised questions. Besides, as he was so keen on telling her – her pretty face was one of the only redeeming features about her. He didn't want to ruin it.

Now though, he'd stopped caring – maybe because her face was already slashed from temple to cheek from the jagged edge of the staircase, or maybe because he simply didn't give a shit about what she had to cover up anymore. He straddled her body and brought his right hand down again and again on the cut side of her face, ignoring her pleas, ignoring the blood on his knuckles. His left hand was useless when it came to beating her, but it did the job just fine when it came to pinning her down.

'Killian,' Emma heard herself moan, her tongue feeling swollen inside her mouth. 'Please.'

He ignored her, as he always did. Grabbing her throat, he lifted her head once and banged it back down onto the floor. Emma let out a shout, and the dark room was suddenly filled with bright, beautiful stars.

Killian leaned close to her, pressing his nose against her own.

'If you ever try to leave me like that again,' he hissed, the smell of rum on his breath finally beginning to fade. 'I'll kill you.'

He finally climbed off of her, not caring that he caught her ribs with the toe of his shoe. Then he disappeared down the hallway, flicking on the kitchen light and slamming the door shut behind him.

Emma stayed on the floor for a few minutes, trying to catch her breath. She could taste blood and salty tears. Every inch of her skull was pounding.

For the rest of the night, those words had rung inside her head.

_If you ever try to leave me like that again, I'll kill you._

She hadn't even tried to leave.

* * *

Emma shuddered at her reflection, forcing herself to look away. She hated remembering how pathetic she had become. She hated reminding herself of the fact that she'd slept in the same bed as him that night, and had been upset that he hadn't wanted to kiss her goodnight.

_If you ever try to leave me like that again, I'll kill you._

Once upon a time, a threat like that wouldn't have done anything to her. She used to be strong, with tough walls and a heart that could never be broken again. Then one day Killian had decided to love her, and she'd ruined herself. Now she was scared of the dark and scared of the man sleeping beside her and scared of everything.

She looked back up at the mirror, trying to stare herself down. Her mouth was a thin, flat line, and her once-toned arms had gotten thin. His threat still ricocheted around her head.

This wasn't a case of what if he found her – this was a case of what would he do to her if she decided to go _back_.

Because the thought was still there, tugging at the back of her mind like a loose thread on a sweater – she wanted to go back. In spite of everything, she wanted to go home.

She hated herself for missing him.

* * *

_**A/N:**  It's probably worth clarifying for future chapters that Hook isn't from the Enchanted Forest in this story. _ _It's also probably worth mentioning that I'm really not a fan of him generally, so if you have some lingering love for him, maybe this isn't the story for you..._


	4. Chapter 4

Regina came down in the morning to find Emma still asleep on the couch. She was tangled up in the blankets, one bare leg sticking out and trailing along the floor, and her curls were thrown across her face. Her mouth was slightly open. Regina glanced around the room and saw that the pyjamas she had offered her were still folded in a neat pile on the coffee table.

A bitter taste filled Regina's mouth, but she pushed it down. She walked into the kitchen and shut the door behind her.

It was only 7am, but she was fully dressed. She found it difficult to sleep nowadays, but when she'd gone to bed that night, it had been even harder than usual to finally close her eyes. Too many thoughts were clattering around in her brain, like she was trying to fall asleep while stood in the middle of a crowd: her son was lying on his own on the other side of town, probably wishing that he was at home with her, and now there was a strange woman sleeping on her couch, probably wishing she was anywhere else at all.

Regina had slept a grand total of four hours in the end. Five times during the night, she had gotten out of bed and walked towards her bedroom door, ready to go downstairs – though why, she wasn't sure. But she'd never made it past the threshold. Every time, she'd paused in the bedroom doorway, looking out at the dark hall and the long staircase that she couldn't see the bottom of. Then she'd crept back to bed with the shame dripping from her.

As soon as she was in the kitchen, she turned on the coffee machine. It made a lot of noise as it ground up the coffee beans, but Regina was inexplicably confident that Emma was the type of person who could sleep through any noise. She waited patiently for the machine to finish brewing, and then poured herself a cup of black coffee with one sugar. She opened the fridge, trying to discern exactly what she could have for breakfast, but all she found inside was the two takeout boxes each filled with a few slices of leftover pizza and a bottle with the tiniest dribble of wine left in the bottom. She rolled her eyes and closed the door.

Glancing at the clock, she decided that she should probably wake Emma up: she had no idea what the woman's plans for the day were, but if she wanted to go with Regina to the hospital again that morning – which she assumed she would – then they would have to get going in the next half hour.

She picked up her cup and pushed open the kitchen door, walking out into the hall. As she reached the living room door, she paused.

Emma was awake, and she'd managed to drag herself off of the couch. She'd gone to bed wearing the same black shirt from the night before, but – probably as a result of Regina's comments – she had removed her jeans. She was now trying to put them back on, and Regina had walked in at the exactly the wrong moment.

Emma was stood by the side of the couch with her messy curls covering her face and her shirt hitched up around her waist. She peered down at the tight denim, which was only pulled up as far as her thighs, and Regina couldn't look away – God, Emma was thin. Her stomach was flat, peppered with scars, including an enormous one on her hip that Regina didn't even want to consider, and her thighs were long and narrow. Emma hitched the jeans up over her red panties and zipped them up, looking up just as Regina was considering walking away.

'Oh,' Emma said, blinking. She quickly did up the button. 'Morning.'

'Good morning,' Regina said, forcing herself not to look down at the stomach that had just sent tingles shooting through her entire body. 'I was just coming to wake you up. But I see the coffee machine might have done that for me.'

'Coffee machine?' Emma asked, turning around to peel the blankets off of the couch. As she began folding them, Regina caught a glimpse of two dimples at the base of her spine.

'You didn't hear it?'

'I don't think so,' Emma said, arranging the blankets into a pile. 'Maybe I smelled it, though.'

She looked wistfully at the cup in Regina's hand as she spoke. Regina laughed.

'I'll get you a cup,' she said. 'How do you take it?'

'Lots of milk,' Emma replied, running her fingers through her hair. 'No sugar. Please.'

Regina found herself smiling. Without thinking, she said, 'The exact opposite of me.'

She realised at once that she sounded like a teenager, and so she left the room before Emma could grin back at her. Her heels tapped loudly against the floor as she rushed back towards the kitchen.

She made Emma a coffee and sat herself down at the bar, crossing her ankles beneath her. A few moments later, her guest walked in, her face lighting up as soon as she spotted the full cup of milky coffee that was waiting for her.

'Thank you,' she breathed, hopping up onto the seat opposite Regina. She wrapped her hands around the mug like her body had been starved of heat all night.

'What is your plan for today, Miss Swan?' Regina asked abruptly. They were both slightly surprised at her tone.

'Oh,' Emma said, looking down at the counter between them. 'I am planning on moving on. If that's what you're worried about.'

For some reason, after a full night's rest, Emma's face looked even paler than it had the day before. Her hair was a mess and mascara was smudged under her eyes and it had only just dawned on Regina that she hadn't given her a toothbrush.

'I wasn't trying to kick you out,' Regina said, clearing her throat. 'It's just, I'm going to see Henry in about 30 minutes, then I have to go to work, and I just… I'm new to this. I'm not entirely sure where you come in.'

Grateful for her brutal honesty, Emma said, 'If you want some time to yourself with Henry, I completely understand. You can go and I'll clear out of here. I just don't know where the motel is.'

'Do you…' Regina paused, painfully aware of how easily she could offend Emma with this question. 'Do you have money for a hotel?'

Emma smiled weakly. 'I have an account that my husband doesn't know about. I just need to get to a bank.'

'Oh,' Regina breathed a sigh of relief. 'Was this account a "just in case" kind of thing?'

'To be honest,' Emma sighed, 'I never really considered what it was for. It was my savings account before I met him, and then when we got married and put all our money together he asked me if I had any other accounts that I needed to add to the pile and I… I don't know. I just didn't tell him.'

'Have you been adding to it since then?'

'Little bits here and there. It's not a lot, but it'll get me going,' Emma said. She suddenly frowned. 'Regina – I don't want to sound rude, but… You know you can't tell anyone about this, right?'

Her skin had turned almost yellow. Regina's heart thumped.

'Of course,' she said, and she so badly wanted to reach out and take Emma's hand. 'I won't say a word to anyone. Henry won't either – not if I ask him not to.'

Emma nodded, looking only slightly less worried.

'Thank you,' she muttered, looking down at her cup. After a moment she straightened up. 'So. I guess the plan is for you to just go about your day as normal, and I'll go to this Granny's place. Just for a few days. Then I suppose I'll move on.'

Regina blinked, taking her cup away from her lips. 'You're going to leave town?'

'Of course,' Emma blinked. 'Did you think I was planning on staying here forever?'

'I guess not,' Regina said, looking down at the counter. 'It's just… you've only just met Henry. He'll no doubt want to see you again. Plus you don't even know where you're going and are you  _sure_ you're ready to go off and be on your own?'

Emma's eyebrows were knitted together. With half a smile on her face, she said, 'You sound like you're worried about me, Regina.'

'Of course I'm worried about you,' Regina snapped. 'Have you looked in the mirror recently?'

Whenever she raised her voice, Emma would flinch like a puppy who'd just been shouted at for chewing the furniture. Immediately Regina regretted it.

'I don't want you to feel like you have to leave,' she said more quietly. Emma looked up at her.

'I have to go at some point, Regina,' she said. 'You've been amazing, letting me stay here for the night, and I really appreciate it, but I never expected to move into your house. And like you said when you first came to find me – Henry only wanted to meet me, not to get to know me. Right?'

Regina faltered. 'I… I suppose so. But where will you go?'

'I have no idea,' Emma admitted. 'I haven't really had time to think about it yet.'

'Then what's the rush?' Regina asked, and as soon as Emma looked suspiciously up at her, she tried to sound a bit more casual. 'I know Henry would like it if you stayed a bit longer. You could come to the hospital again today.'

Emma tilted her head to one side. 'Do you  _want_ me to stay?'

'I…' Regina couldn't finish her sentence. She shrugged. 'I wouldn't mind either way. I'm just saying that maybe you shouldn't rush off without a plan.'

Emma's eyebrows were raised probably as high as they could go. 'I feel like you're bullshitting.'

'Well, I'm not,' Regina snapped, and this time Emma didn't flinch. 'You can leave if you really want to, Miss Swan. I'm just trying to help.'

Emma waited for Regina's cheeks to turn slightly less red before she said, 'I'll come with you to see Henry again. But I'm going to the motel today. I'll be gone before you get home from work, and I promise you'll still have all your jewellery.'

Regina forced a smile. 'And then what?'

'Then, we'll see,' Emma said. 'I'm a spontaneous person, Regina. I'll work it out.'

The notion of Emma traipsing off into the world by herself, without anything on her except a hidden bank account and a ratty old leather jacket, made Regina feel sick. She knew that this was a terrible idea. But she also knew that really, it was absolutely none of her business.

She swallowed down her fears and nodded. 'Fine. I'll show you where Granny's is, and the bank. And probably the store, too.'

'Thank you.'

'And if you want to have a shower, by all means. I probably have a spare toothbrush somewhere.'

'Thanks,' Emma repeated. She finished her coffee. 'I'll skip the shower, but a toothbrush would be great. And some deodorant, probably.'

Regina smirked. 'Thank god you asked.'

Emma rolled her eyes back at her. 'Shut up.'

Hopping down from her stool as gracefully as she could manage, Regina said, 'I'll be back in a second.'

She disappeared through the kitchen door and up the stairs. When she returned, she was carrying a tube of toothpaste, a can of Dove deodorant spray, and a child's toothbrush still in its plastic packaging.

'Sorry,' she said, placing them on the bar before Emma. 'I thought I had a spare grown-up one. Apparently not.'

Emma picked up the toothbrush. 'Are these  _dinosaurs_?'

'They are indeed,' Regina said, taking their empty cups over to the sink. 'If you're a fan of them, that'll give you another thing to discuss with Henry later. He'll love it.'

Emma was holding the toothbrush with both hands, examining it closely. 'This is awesome.'

Regina rolled her eyes to herself, but she was smiling. 'Go and get freshened up then, Miss Swan. I'm ready when you are.'

Emma hopped off of her chair and headed for the door. 'Thanks, Regina.'

She disappeared into the hallway, and Regina heard the click of the bathroom door closing. She leaned forwards against the sink and closed her eyes, willing her heartbeat to slow down.

'You're welcome,' she murmured, leaving the cups unwashed.

* * *

'That's Granny's right there,' Regina said, slowing her car down so she could point out of the window. Emma leaned passed her and looked for a moment, unable to hide the wrinkling of her nose.

'It looks... cute,' she said.

Forcing herself not to laugh, Regina said, 'It's fine, I assure you. It's cleaner than it looks.'

'You've stayed there?'

Regina paused. 'Yes. Once or twice.'

'Why?' Emma asked, leaning back in her seat. 'It definitely can't be as nice as your house.'

Regina felt herself flush at the compliment. She tried desperately to think of an excuse –  _my house was being fumigated. Wait, does that even happen anymore? What bugs could get in? –_ but kept coming up short. Eventually she just sighed.

'I used to meet a man there.'

She didn't turn around, but she knew that Emma's eyebrows had shot up.

'Oh,  _really_?'

'Don't sound so surprised,' Regina said, pretending that she was concentrating on the road. She despised her cheeks right then for flushing bright pink. 'Politicians do have sex too, you know.'

'I didn't for a minute think that you weren't having sex, Regina,' Emma laughed, and again, Regina heard the compliment that was buried in there. 'I'm just surprised that you're the sneaking-out-of-the-house-so-you-don't-get-caught type.'

'I didn't want Henry to know,' Regina said quietly. 'He has enough to think about.'

Emma shrugged. 'I suppose that's fair. So who was the guy?'

There was a pause, and then Regina admitted, 'The sheriff.'

'Oh,  _okay_ ,' Emma said. The flustered look on Regina's face was adorable, but she could feel her heart starting to beat faster. She asked as casually as she could, 'But you're not seeing him anymore?'

Regina flicked her eyes across the car, trying in that single second to read Emma's expression. 'No. Not anymore.'

'What happened?'

'I don't know. We…' Regina paused as she reached a stop sign. 'We just drifted. It wasn't going anywhere.'

'Does it have to?'

Regina blinked. 'Well. I suppose not. But I find that it helps.'

'Before I met my husband,' Emma said, and Regina immediately felt her body stiffen, 'I only ever used to date guys if I knew it wasn't going anywhere. I kind of wish I'd stuck to that rule now.'

A bubble of sadness filled Regina's chest. 'Emma. You can't judge all relationships based on how this one turned out. Not everyone is like that.'

'I know,' Emma sighed, fiddling with the hem of her jacket. 'My track record isn't great though, is it? I get abandoned in jail by my first boyfriend, and then my marriage… I don't know. Maybe it's me. I must attract a certain type of guy.'

'Move on to women, then,' Regina said, and it slipped out of her mouth so aggressively that she was suddenly sure that she was going to crash the car.

Emma looked at her, her eyebrows raised in amusement. 'Is that your genuine advice?'

Ignoring her burning cheeks and inwardly kicking herself, Regina said, 'No. It was a joke.'

There was a pause, and Regina could hear Emma chucking under her breath. The hospital was only a five-minute drive from her house, and yet it had never seemed so far away.

Then Emma suddenly asked, 'Do you think it's easier to be with women?' and Regina nearly vomited on the windscreen.

'How should I know?'

'I'm not saying you'd  _know_ ,' Emma said. 'Just… what do you think? Men are great for certain things, but they've never done that much for me in the long run. Maybe women just treat each other better.'

'I'd be inclined to agree,' Regina said, turning a corner. 'But I think a big factor in all this is that you have to actually find women attractive. You can't just jump ship, unfortunately.'

She laughed as she said this, meaning it as a joke, but Emma had fallen silent. She turned her head and stared out of the passenger window.

'That's true,' she said quietly, and that familiar tug at Regina's heart returned.

They continued on their way to the hospital without another word. Regina's stomach was twisting itself into knots and she was painfully aware of the fact that she must have upset Emma in some way, but whenever she turned to look at her, she didn't look upset – just thoughtful. Her hand was fiddling with her necklace, and her green eyes flicked from left to right as Storybrooke rushed past the window. It was funny how such a tiny town suddenly felt like an entirely new world to her.

When they arrived at the hospital, Emma turned to smile at Regina. She looked more nervous now that they were so close to seeing her son again.

But Regina's mind was still on other things. She blurted out, 'You'll find someone else, you know. Someone who treats you right.'

Emma blinked, her gaze dropping slightly. She let herself take Regina in: her sleek, black dress and her towering heels that she somehow managed to drive in. Her hair was immaculate and her presence was utterly terrifying. And yet a small, ridiculous part of Emma felt safe around her. It was weird how trust had already blossomed between them when she hadn't quite reached that stage with her husband yet.

She looked back out at the mostly empty parking lot, her fingers still tangled in her necklace.

'Yeah,' she said quietly, unable to meet Regina's eye. 'I hope so.'

* * *

They stopped at the hospital vending machine to buy some candy for Henry – Regina told Emma that this had become a regular habit now and she had no idea how she planned on phasing it out again – before they went to his room. Emma had gone quiet, and Regina wasn't sure how she was meant to convince her that this would be okay. But before she could even try, she noticed that there was a commotion up ahead, just outside her son's room.

'What the  _hell_ …?' Regina muttered, immediately speeding up. Emma matched her pace, feeling gangly and awkward beside her.

'What's going on?' Regina asked as she reached the doorway. Dr Whale was stood just inside the room, surrounded by several nurses. 'Has something happened? Is Henry okay?'

She tried to lean past the doctor to see the bed.

'Madam Mayor, please. There's been a change in your son's status—'

'Oh, and no one thought that I needed to be informed?' Regina snapped, pushing past him. Emma tottered behind her, blinking. Before she had time to think or even register than maybe she should be concerned, she caught sight of the bed. Henry was sat upright, and his cheeks were pink.

'Hi Mom,' he grinned at Regina. Then he spotted Emma. 'Emma! You're back!'

Dr Whale moved back towards them. He blinked when he saw the bruises on Emma's face. 'Who are you, exactly?'

Emma hesitated, looking from the doctor to Henry and back again.

Regina sighed. 'She's—'

'Just a friend,' Emma interrupted. 'A friend of the family.'

Regina narrowed her eyes, but didn't correct her. She turned back to Dr Whale and waited for him to speak.

'Well?' she asked, tapping one foot on the ground. Emma almost laughed. 'Are you going to explain what's going on?'

Dr Whale seemed to be completely immune to her rage by this point. He gestured to Henry, who was still grinning broadly. 'Your son's condition has… improved. Quite dramatically.'

'It already did that once,' Regina snapped, having learned the hard way from getting her hopes up too high. 'And then it deteriorated again.'

'This is quite different,' Dr Whale said. 'Last time, we noticed small improvements – minor, good signs that gave us hope that he was getting better. This morning… I don't know what to tell you. It's like he's healed overnight.'

There was a dense pause, before Regina all but shrieked, 'And no one thought to  _call me_?!'

'We've been running tests all morning, Madam Mayor,' Dr Whale explained. 'After what happened last time, it seemed better to wait until we had more information before we got your hopes up again. Especially since we knew you'd be here at 8:15 sharp.'

He nodded to the clock, and Emma followed his gaze. He was right – 8:15 precisely.

Regina took a deep breath, pressing her hands against her temples. She walked over to her son's bed and kissed him on his forehead, noticing immediately that his skin wasn't as hot as it had been yesterday.

She turned back to the doctor and said slightly more quietly, 'How did this happen?'

'Honestly, we have no idea,' Dr Whale said. He seemed far too casual about the whole thing, and Emma decided then that she didn't like him at all. 'It's remarkable. When he went to sleep yesterday evening, things were much the same. Then he woke up and it's like something magically changed. Something fixed him overnight.'

Without meaning to, Regina glanced over at Emma. Emma looked back, but without the same recognition in her eyes.

'So he can come home?' Regina asked, reaching out to place her hand at the back of her son's head.

'Not just yet,' Dr Whale said. 'We need to keep monitoring him, just in case things change. But if things stay the way they are and Henry's condition continues to improve, he could be home within a week.'

Regina could have burst into tears.  _A week_. She leaned forwards and kissed Henry's head once more, squeezing her eyes shut.

'That would be nice, wouldn't it?' she murmured, and Henry grinned up at her.

'I can't wait,' he said, before his gaze returned to Emma. She was stood awkwardly by the wall, her thumbs looped in the back pockets of her jeans. She smiled back at him, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

Regina turned back to Dr Whale. 'Do you need to do more tests right now?'

'No. We can leave for the time being,' he replied, gesturing to the nurses that they should head for the door. 'I'll come back a bit later.'

'Okay,' Regina nodded. 'Thank you.'

Emma could tell from the look on the doctor's face that she hadn't said thank you to him very often since Henry had been admitted.

Dr Whale turned to leave, then he paused. He looked back at Emma.

'Have you had that checked that out?' he asked, gesturing to the cut on her cheek with his pen.

'Yes,' Emma flushed. 'Of course.'

'Okay. What happened there?'

Before Emma could answer, Regina called out from the bed, 'She fell down.'

Dr Whale glanced back at her and sighed. He left the room shaking his head.

Regina perched herself on the edge of Henry's bed, keeping her arm wrapped around his shoulders. Emma slowly approached them, grabbing a chair. She dragged it towards the bed and then, seeing how close she would be to the pair of them, pushed it back a few centimetres.

Henry was looking at her. 'How did you manage to cut yourself that badly falling down?'

'Henry,' Regina hissed, nudging him.

Emma smiled, sitting down. 'It's okay. I'm just pretty clumsy, kid. You should be glad you didn't inherit that from me.'

When her son grinned back at her, it made her heart pound. Regina watched the pair of them, an uncertain smile on her face.

* * *

'So,' Regina said, gesturing to the nearby building. They were stood outside the hospital, and Regina was holding her car keys awkwardly in one hand. 'That's the bank. And the store is just two blocks that way.'

'Great,' Emma said, nodding. 'Thanks.'

'And you remember where Granny's is? I showed you on the way into town?'

'I remember. It's back down that street.'

'And you'll be okay getting back to my house to collect your car?'

'I'll be fine, Regina,' Emma said, half smiling. 'I'm not going off to college. I'm just going to a bed and breakfast.'

Regina sighed, looking down at her shoes. 'I know. I just… I want to be sure that you're okay.'

'I'm fine,' Emma said, and it almost sounded convincing. 'Really. Besides, you'll know where to find me, and I'll probably see you again soon, won't I?'

Nodding, Regina said, 'Of course you will. I'll take you to see Henry again. Tomorrow afternoon maybe? We get more time in the evenings.'

'That sounds great,' Emma said, looking around her. She swallowed, suddenly looking uncomfortable. 'I'll… I'll let you know what room I'm staying in, once I get to the hotel. I'm going to tell them not to let anyone contact me unless they know the room number already.'

Her face turned slightly pale as she said this, and yet again Regina felt a stab of anxiety in her stomach. She shouldn't be leaving Emma alone. She  _knew_ it.

But they'd already had this argument before, and she'd lost. So she just looked down at the floor and nodded.

'You can come back to mine any time you want,' she said quietly.

Emma smiled at her. 'I think you'll get a bit sick of finding me sitting on the porch every day, Regina.'

'There's a spare key under one of the plant pots,' Regina said, although she had no idea why. 'You can let yourself in.'

Emma blinked. 'Really?'

When Regina looked up, her caramel eyes were swimming with worry. 'Of course. Whenever you want.'

'Why…?' Emma started, and then stopped herself. She shouldn't force her to answer that – especially when Regina probably didn't know the answer herself.

Instead, Emma held out her hand. 'Thank you, Regina.'

Regina paused before she reached out to shake it. Emma's fingers were cold, and Regina found herself utterly reluctant to let go.

'You're welcome.'

Eventually, she forced herself to slowly walk back to her car. She didn't look back around, even though her heart was pounding and she could taste salt at the back of her throat..

_This is ridiculous,_ she told herself as she opened the car door, sliding into the driver's seat. _She's going to be fine, and you'll probably see her tomorrow anyway_.

But Emma looked so small as she drove away, and the guilt refused to leave her. Emma was alone, and even though she lifted one hand to wave goodbye, she looked afraid. Regina should be there for her. She  _wanted_ to be.

All day long, she kicked herself for allowing Emma to leave. She should have stood up to her. She should have made her stay.

* * *

Regina staggered back into the house at 9pm, after a full day at City Hall followed by several hours at the hospital with Henry. He seemed almost completely back to his old self, right down to his many, many questions.

'Where's Emma today?'

'Is she staying in town?'

'I still don't understand how she ended up here – I thought you said when you went to Boston you  _didn't_ find her?'

By the time she was back home, Regina bones were aching with exhaustion. And yet she still couldn't take her mind off of Emma, sitting alone in a dingy hotel room that Regina herself had probably had regrettable sex in once or twice.

She toed off her shoes in the hallway and snapped on the lights. God, it was so quiet.

Padding into the kitchen, Regina headed straight for the fridge. She'd forgotten to eat again for most of the day, and her stomach was growling. It wasn't until she was three feet away that she remembered that she still hadn't had time to go grocery shopping.

She stopped. 'God  _damn it_.'

She knew there was leftover pizza in there, but she wasn't sure she could bring herself to eat it. With Emma there, it had been fine – good, even. But sitting by herself in an empty kitchen, it just seemed sad.

Emma would be eating by herself too, she realised. They should have had dinner together.

The thought slipped into her head like a shadow and she immediately shook her head, scolding herself.  _You sound like a teenager. Get a grip_. Still, she found herself staring longingly at the door, waiting for someone to walk through.

Then she noticed that there was a piece of paper lying on the counter that she definitely hadn't left there that morning, and she hurried over to it as fast as her aching feet could take her.

_Regina,_

_I hope you don't mind that I used your spare key – when you said I could come around whenever, you probably didn't mean it literally._

_I just wanted to do something nice for you to say thanks for last night. I know you probably haven't been shopping again, so check the fridge._

_I've checked in to room 17 at Granny's. I told her that if you call, she can put you through whenever. I'm going to go and check out her diner tonight – I feel like this could be an interesting experience._

_Thanks again and see you soon,_

_Emma_

Regina stared down at the note for a few moments before she rushed over to the fridge. It wasn't full by any stretch, but Emma had bought her the basics – probably far more than she should have been able to carry without a car. Most of the shelves were filled, and one pizza box was still there. It too had a note on it.

_I was hungry so I took my own, but please remember to eat yours. Another rule of ordering takeout is that nothing gets thrown away._

Regina found herself laughing in spite of herself. She pulled the box out and saw that Emma had put a couple of her leftover slices in there with Regina's, just in case.

Regina's stomach twisted once more, and she looked out at the road.

It was dark already. This house was too damn big and any time a car drove past, she jumped, either expecting it to be Emma or someone looking for her. She imagined Emma sat on her tiny bed in Granny's, staring at the wall, with no working television and no cell phone to distract herself with. The thought was too pitiful, and Regina couldn't handle it. Not for a second longer.

She shoved the pizza box back into the fridge, grabbed her keys, and headed for the door.

* * *

As soon as Emma opened the door and saw her waiting there, she blinked. 'Regina?'

'You have to stay.'

Emma's eyebrows shot up. 'Sorry?'

'In Storybrooke,' Regina said, bouncing on the balls of her feet. 'With… me. In my house.'

'What? Why?' Emma asked, her eyes suddenly widening. 'Has something happened with Henry?'

'Henry is absolutely fine, Miss Swan,' Regina sighed. 'You saw him earlier – he's a lot better. Something about your presence has done that, no doubt. But that's not why you need to stay.'

'Then what's the reason?' Emma asked, leaning against the doorframe. Quite inexplicably, she looked more confident than Regina had ever seen her. 'Please, just tell me the truth.'

And finally, Regina did. Or most of it, anyway.

'I'm worried about you,' she said, forcing herself to meet Emma's gaze. 'I'm afraid that he'll come here to find you, and I'm afraid that you'll go back to him. I'm worried that if you spend too much time on your own, you'll realise how lonely you are and you'll go running back to the only person who you think loves you. I want you to stay here and have some company and realise that love doesn't actually look like that.'

Emma bit her lip. 'How am I supposed to find out what love really looks like by staying here?'

Ignoring the flush in her cheeks and the frantic beat of her heart, Regina shrugged. 'Maybe you won't. But you might learn what it's like to have a friend, and I think that might be just as good.'

A tiny, hopeful smile lit up Emma's tired face. 'You want us to be friends?'

'Yes. I do.' It was another half-truth. 'I think we understand each other, Miss Swan. And I think we can help each other.'

'Oh, Regina. How the hell can I be of any help to  _you_?' Emma laughed sadly, her self-hatred coming out in spades. But the sad look on Regina's face make her pause.

Regina swallowed.

'I'm lonely too,' she admitted. Something immediately thudded inside Emma's chest.

'You are?'

'Of course I am,' Regina sighed, gesturing down at herself. 'Look at me. I don't have any friends in this town, and I don't exactly attract many men. The only person I have left is my son, and he's in hospital and I miss him dreadfully every single day. I can't sleep because the house is too quiet and having you around is… It's  _nice_. It's refreshing. I like having someone to talk to.'

She'd never admitted so much truth aloud in one go before in her entire life, and the painful patheticness of it all made her feel like she had to catch her breath. She waited for Emma to laugh, or back away. But she just sighed.

'Yeah,' she said, crossing her arms. 'I can understand that.'

'You can?'

'Of course,' Emma said. 'I just… I don't want to intrude on your life any more than I already have done. I have no idea what I'm doing, or how long I'm staying here for, and you don't need my shit piling up on your doorstep while I try and decide. I don't want it to get to the stage where you want to ask me to leave but you feel like you can't.'

'Miss Swan,' Regina said, and her voice was suddenly firm. 'I have already told you: I do not do  _anything_ I don't want to. I want you to stay, so I'm asking you to. Rest assured, when it's time for you to leave, I won't waste any time in telling you so.'

Emma looked like she wanted to smile, but she wasn't entirely sure that she was allowed to.

'Besides,' Regina said, shrugging. 'Henry will be back at home in a week. If his questions don't scare you off by then, you were born to be a part of this family.'

Emma laughed then, shaking her head. 'You've got a point.'

'So – come back with me,' Regina said, no longer caring if she sounded desperate. 'And no more sleeping on the couch – I have spare beds. You're having one. Did you manage to buy some clothes today?'

Emma nodded, gesturing at the sad collection of bags on the floor that she hadn't managed to bring herself to unpack yet. 'Yeah, I did.'

'Then get them together and let's go,' Regina said, taking a step away from the door. They both knew that Emma wasn't going to say no again. 'I can actually cook us some dinner now that someone kindly did my grocery shopping for me.'

Emma's cheeks flushed. 'I hope I got the right stuff. I didn't know what fruit you liked, so I got apples.'

Regina forced herself not to smile. 'Apples are perfect.'

She watched as Emma gathered up her collection of bags and her leather jacket, then headed towards the door. She smiled as she passed by.

'Thank you, Regina.'

Regina took the oversized key out of her hand. Their fingers brushed together.

'You're quite welcome,' she said, turning away and locking the door. 'Now, let's go home.'


	5. Chapter 5

Emma looked at her surroundings with her three sad bags clamped to her chest.

'This looks like a hotel.'

Regina would have laughed if Emma hadn't sounded so disheartened.

'It's just a guest room,' Regina said from behind her.

'It looks more like a hotel than _Granny's_ did.'

Emma was standing in the doorway to the bedroom, seemingly unable to step inside. She'd kicked off her boots by the front door and placed them alongside Regina's heels, but even so, she looked afraid that her socks were somehow going to track mud into the cream carpet.

'Aren't you going to go in?' Regina prompted, her eyes on the tense muscles around Emma's shoulder blades.

Emma swallowed, finally taking a step into the room. It was the smaller of Regina's two guest rooms, and yet it was easily twice the size of her bedroom at home. Everything was a shade of cream or white, and the bed was so enormous and pillowy that it almost brought tears to her eyes.

Standing in the centre of the room with her bags still held to her stomach, she turned back to face Regina. 'I can't stay here.'

'Why not?' Regina asked, leaning one shoulder against the doorjamb.

'This is way too nice,' Emma said, her eyes opening wider when she noticed there was an actual _armchair_ in the corner. 'I think the couch suits me better.'

'Miss Swan. With all due respect, you're being an idiot,' Regina said. 'This suits you just fine. You've already deliberately chosen the smaller room, anyway – I don't think we can downgrade you any further.'

Emma rolled her eyes at her, still not putting her bags down. 'This is too much.'

'For god's sake,' Regina sighed, stepping into the room. 'It's _nothing_. Can I at least try and convince you to take the bigger one? There's no point in leaving it empty while you're cooped up in here.'

Emma glanced past Regina and out into the hallway. It was already getting dark. She didn't know how she could tell Regina that she'd asked for the smaller bedroom because it was closer to Regina's, so she just shook her head.

'Not a chance.'

'Fine,' Regina snapped, although she still looked amused enough that Emma didn't flinch at her tone. 'Confine yourself to your own stubbornness. The other bedroom has an en suite, but I guess you won't be using it.'

Finally, Emma smiled. She placed her bags on the bed. 'I'll probably cope without it.'

Regina realised then that she'd finally met someone who was more tenacious than she was. She rolled her eyes and turned back to the door.

'I'll leave you to settle in while I go and get dinner started,' she said without looking back. 'The bathroom is two doors to your left.'

As she headed down the stairs, Regina realised that the house smelled slightly different now that Emma was here. It smelled like vanilla.

Emma stood in the middle of that strange bedroom, watching her go. When Regina had disappeared from sight, she walked towards the door and glanced down the hall, spying the door that must be the bathroom. To her right, just one room away, was Regina's room. Its closeness made her chest tighten – but with reassurance or nervousness, she couldn't tell.

She turned back into her new room and grabbed the paper bag that she'd picked up at the drug store earlier that day. She took it with her down the corridor, snapping on the bathroom light. _Oh, for crying out loud_. It looked like something you'd find in a suite at the Hyatt. Or, so she imagined – Killian didn't exactly leap at the opportunity to take her on mini breaks. They'd spent their honeymoon on a boat that he'd borrowed from someone at work, and the deck had been so rotten that Emma had put her foot through a plank and sprained her ankle.

She walked slowly into the bathroom and dropped the paper bag on the vast marble counter that surrounded the sink. The mirror behind it stretched all the way up to the ceiling, and Emma grimaced, realising then just how terrible she looked. She leaned forward, prodding at her puffy face: her hair was lank, and the bags under her eyes were clinging to her skin like ink.

In the reflection, she caught sight of the bath on the other side of the room. It was enormous, and behind the screen that covered half its length there was a vast gold showerhead fastened to the wall. She felt her toes curl in her socks.

She turned back to the door, ready to rush downstairs and ask Regina if it was okay if she took a quick shower, until she remembered the look of derision on her host's face any time she asked permission to do anything.

_She wanted you to stay in the fucking deluxe suite down the hall_ , Emma told herself, eyeing the pile of fluffy towels folded neatly on the counter. _She really isn't going to mind._

So she shut the door and started to peel her clothes off, leaving them scattered across the floor like rose petals. She switched the water on and, the second that it hit the bottom of the bathtub, she heard herself moan. She turned for a moment, grappling in the paper bag for shampoo and shower gel, before she tumbled under the water, letting it rain down on her bruised body.

Downstairs, Regina heard the click of the hot water. She nudged open the kitchen door and stuck her head around it, listening for the sound of a shower running from upstairs. She smiled, shutting the door once more.

She went back to her cooking, her stomach fizzing. She found herself wondering if Emma had locked the door.

* * *

Half an hour later, the kitchen door swung open and Emma padded into the room. Regina turned to look at her.

'Wow,' she said, raising her eyebrows. 'You look… much better.'

Emma's hair was dark brown from the water and was just beginning to curl again. She was wearing the same dark blue jeans as that morning, but she'd picked up a new sweater in town. It was loose fitting and deep red with a neckline that cut straight across her collarbone. Her feet were bare, and her cheeks were pink.

She let out a happy sigh that made Regina's stomach leap.

'I feel _so_ much better. That shower is amazing.'

'I'm glad,' Regina said, turning back to the stove so that Emma wouldn't see her amused smile.

'I was going to ask if it was okay,' Emma said, pausing before she pulled herself up onto one of the barstools. 'But then I remembered that you hate it when I ask you things like that. So I decided to just be rude and forthright and jumped straight in.'

Regina couldn't help it – she snorted with laughter.

'I'm glad to hear that Storybrooke is helping your personal growth.'

Emma smiled and looked down at her fingers, which were laced together on the marble countertop. She'd painted her nails red over a week ago because Killian preferred them like that, and they desperately needed redoing.

Shrugging him away, she tried to peer across the kitchen at what Regina was doing.

'Can I help with anything?'

Regina turned around, her eyebrows raised. 'Help?'

'With the cooking,' Emma said. 'It's not fair that you do everything by yourself.'

It surprised Emma just how confused Regina looked by her offer. _She has a ten-year-old son,_ she told herself. _She probably hasn't been offered help with dinner since before he was born._

'I think…' Regina said, looking down at the pot she was stirring. 'I think everything is done.'

'Oh. Okay,' Emma said, relaxing slightly. 'What are we having?'

'I just made soup,' Regina said, her forehead wrinkling. 'I hope that's okay.'

'I love soup. What kind?'

Regina glanced over at her in case she was being sarcastic. 'Tomato.'

When Emma's face lit up with genuine delight, it felt like her insides were melting.

'You can cut up some bread,' she said, gesturing to the crusty loaf that Emma had bought earlier. 'If you want.'

Emma jumped up at once, joining her at the counter.

'Do you have a knife I can use?'

Regina kept stirring the soup with one hand and reached past Emma with the other. Her arm grazed against Emma's abdomen as she opened the nearest drawer. She jumped when she realised just how toned her stomach was.

She snatched her arm back and murmured, 'In there somewhere.'

Emma looked down at the perfectly organised drawer and laughed. _Somewhere._

She grabbed the bread knife and started cutting the loaf up into thick slices. Her damp hair tumbled across her shoulders, shielding her face, and in that moment Regina let herself glance across at her. As Emma's hair dried, the blonde shimmer started to return to it. The way that it curled perfectly without any assistance made the muscles in Regina's stomach tighten.

She turned back to the soup, pursing her lips. It suddenly felt very warm in the kitchen.

Emma put down the knife and looked around at her. 'Do you have a plate or something?'

Regina swallowed, hoping that her hair was shielding her own face. She knew that her cheeks were flushing and it was suddenly vital to her that Emma didn't notice.

'You can just leave it on the cutting board,' Regina murmured, gesturing at it with her elbow. Emma paused – Regina was leaning forward and her hair was hanging in front of her face. Emma hadn't known her for very long, granted, but she knew her well enough to be able to tell when she was trying to avoid looking at her.

'...are you okay?' Emma asked.

'I'm fine,' Regina said, not looking around. When she felt Emma moving towards her the colour in her cheeks deepened.

'Regina?' Emma asked, gently touching her arm. 'Jesus. You're really warm.'

Regina sighed, forcing herself to look up at her. 'Because I'm cooking.'

Emma frowned. Regina's cheeks were as red as apples and her eyes looked weirdly glossy. She glanced down and realised that she was still holding onto her arm. Somewhat reluctantly, she let go.

'If you say so,' she said, swallowing. 'Would you like me to set the table?'

Regina nodded, taking a breath. 'Bowls and plates are in that cupboard over there.'

Emma followed the direction of her hand and grabbed a pile of dishes. She collected spoons from the same drawer that she'd gotten the knife from and began to walk towards the door.

She paused before she opened it. 'The soup smells amazing, Regina.'

She disappeared into the dining room, and Regina was left alone.

'Finally,' she muttered, continuing to stir the bubbling soup. Her muscles relaxed, but the colour in her cheeks didn't fade away.

* * *

Emma ate with her legs crossed beneath her, Regina noticed. Even when they were sat at the dining room table with the nice plates and a glass of white wine apiece, she curled up in her chair and ate like a child. Part of Regina winced. Part of her found it oddly endearing.

'This is really great,' Emma said, mopping the dregs of her soup out of the bottom of the bowl with a slice of bread.

'I've never seen someone so enthusiastic about soup before.'

Emma swallowed. Regina recognised this look already: it came before Emma decided whether she should share something or not. She had already learned to wait patiently for the outcome.

'I can't cook,' Emma said after a moment, her eyes down. 'At all. I really do try, but I burn everything or add salt instead of sugar and so most of the time I just buy our meals from the store. But I can make soup – it's pretty much the only thing I can make without ruining.'

'I find it very hard to believe that the only thing you are good at is _soup_ ,' Regina laughed, sipping her wine. 'What a ridiculous thing to say.'

But Emma had gone oddly still. 'It's true.'

'I don't believe that for a second.'

When Emma looked back up at her, Regina flinched – her eyes were filled with worry, like she was waiting for Regina to make her perform some kind of test to prove it. Like she really believed that there was nothing else she could actually do right.

Regina put her glass back down, looking Emma directly in her eyes. 'Everyone's good at something.'

'So I hear,' Emma said. 'And I have soup.'

'Let me guess,' Regina sighed. 'You used to think you were fairly competent at a lot of things. Then _someone_ told you that you weren't.'

Emma blinked.

'No,' she said. 'Not exactly.'

'Are you sure that maybe, soup is just the only thing that he hasn't criticised yet?'

'I can't even make _toast_ ,' Emma said through gritted teeth.

'Really?' Regina asked, like she was actually interested. 'What do you do to it?'

'I burn it.'

'You don't say. Completely blackened?'

'Well. Not exactly.'

'Oh. Very dark brown, then?'

Emma suddenly looked like she couldn't remember where she was. 'I… yes. I guess so.'

'Every time?'

Emma's forehead was crumpling, and Regina watched it with some kind of twisted interest. She looked like a puppy again.

'Not always,' Emma said quietly. 'When I make it for myself, it's… it's fine.'

Regina raised her eyebrows. 'You mean, when your husband isn't home?'

'You're making it sound worse than it is,' Emma snapped. 'Maybe I just have lower standards when it comes to toast.'

'Among other things,' Regina muttered into her wine glass. 'Why doesn't he just make his own damn toast, if the exact shade of it is so important to him?'

'He's always busy. And cooking isn't very easy for him.'

'Because he's lazy?'

'Because he's only got one hand.'

Regina nearly choked on her wine. 'He's… what?'

'Only got one hand,' Emma said, and she sounded tired. 'He lost his left one. There was a drugs bust and his whole unit got called to the scene and it… They couldn't save it.'

For a moment, Regina fell quiet. She felt genuinely guilty.

And then, 'It doesn't take two hands to make toast, Emma.'

Emma slammed her glass back down to the table, her eyes flashing. 'Can you stop that for _one_ minute?'

'I don't know,' Regina said. Her tone was playful, but her face was serious. 'Can you stop defending all the abusive shit he piles on top of you?'

'I'm not defending him.'

'Oh, right. Like hell you aren't,' Regina rolled her eyes. She leaned across the table, her brown eyes suddenly narrow. Emma felt herself flinching away. 'All you've got is soup, Emma. That's all he's left you with.'

She watched the shame well up in Emma's eyes. Then it ebbed away once more as she picked up her wine glass and shrugged.

'Or maybe I'm just really crap at everything.'

The rage in Regina's stomach felt like a fire. She clenched her fists under the table, her eyes scanning over those bruises, those _fucking_ bruises, that she was slowly realising weren't even the worst of Emma's injuries. Everything inside of that woman was far more damaged; torn apart and barely pieced back together again. Knowing exactly what this man had made Emma think about herself made Regina want to scream.

_Soup._

Who the hell could live with their self, making their wife feel so entirely crappy about herself that a bowl of chicken noodle was all she had left to feel proud of?

Regina stood up and Emma blinked, edging back in her chair.

'What?' she asked, a hint of a tremor in her voice. She placed her wine glass back on the table with a gentle clink.

'Come with me,' Regina said, striding out of the room without bothering to check that Emma was following. 'Now.'

Emma's stomach twisted. She looked at the empty bowls and the plates scattered with crumbs in front of her. The sight of them made her want to cry.

Slowly, she pushed her chair backwards and followed Regina through the door. Her entire abdomen felt cold but the kitchen was too hot, and when she looked up she saw that Regina's face was flushed with annoyance.

Emma stopped in the middle of the room and wetted her lips. 'What is it?'

The wobble in her throat caught them both by surprise. Regina was leaning back against the counter, her arms crossed over her chest. Her lips were tight.

She nodded over to the opposite counter. 'There.'

Emma followed her gaze. Her heart plummeted.

'Seriously?'

'Go on,' Regina said, nodding at the loaf of bread that was sat in front of the toaster. 'Try.'

'Regina, for god's sake.'

'Go ahead,' Regina said, and her expression was deadly serious. 'The smoke alarm is operational, don't worry. There's no risk of you burning the house down.'

Emma rolled her eyes, but the panic in her chest hadn't lessened. Whatever Regina was expecting to prove, Emma knew one thing – she didn't want to show her just how useless she was.

She looked back at the bread and realised that she was dangerously close to crying. 'This is stupid.'

'That's exactly right, Emma,' Regina said calmly. 'Please. I'm interested to see how badly you think you're going to mess this up.'

Emma knew that she was only quoting her own words, but they hit her like a slap in her face.

Even now, a hundred miles away, his voice rang in her ears, tinged with an accent that was fading after years of living in America. _What kind of useless whore can't even make_ toast _without fucking it up?_

She gritted her teeth and stepped towards the toaster. She pulled two slices of bread out of the bag and slotted them in, pushing the lever down. Then, silence. It was the most anticlimactic moment of her entire life.

She turned back to Regina. 'Now what?'

Regina wasn't smiling. 'Go and get your drink, if it'll help you calm down a bit.'

'I'm not going to _leave_ the toaster.'

'Emma, you could leave bread over an open fire for the amount of time it will take you to walk into the next room and pick up your glass. Nothing's going to happen. Just go. Get mine too, if you'd be so kind.'

Jesus, she was infuriating. Emma stomped back into the dining room, picked up her glass, drained it, and grabbed Regina's. She walked back into the kitchen and placed both glasses next to the mayor.

'Thank you,' Regina said calmly, picking hers up and taking a sip. 'Help yourself to a refill.'

Emma glanced over at the toaster. She could smell burning. Or, she thought she could.

'Emma,' Regina said, and her voice was cool and soft. It brought her back. 'Please relax. Get yourself a drink.'

Emma did as she was told. She poured herself another glass and before she replaced the bottle in the fridge, she moved in front of Regina and waited. Regina blinked, then held out her own half-empty glass. She tried to ignore the fact that Emma's hands were trembling as she poured, but the gentle clatter of glass on glass felt like nails running down her back.

'Thank you,' she said, and Emma returned the bottle to the fridge.

When she came back and picked up her glass, she seemed slightly less anxious. She leaned back against the counter next to Regina, shakily lifting her glass to her lips.

Barely three inches separated their shoulders, and Regina felt an overwhelming desire to close the gap.

'It's only toast,' she said softly.

Emma's eyes were fixed, unblinking, on the toaster on the other side of the room. 'It's not though, is it?'

'Well,' Regina admitted. 'To most people – yes. But right now… no. I guess not.'

Emma just nodded, her nostrils still flaring, waiting for smoke to start curling through the room.

'I used to be really capable, you know,' she said, still not dragging her eyes away from the machine. 'I used to make a killer grilled cheese.'

'What happened?'

'I made it for Killian once,' she said. 'He said it tasted like roadkill.'

'How can a _grilled cheese_ taste like—?'

'I don't know,' Emma said, and her voice was so flat that it made Regina's heart ache. 'I didn't ask. I just threw it away.'

There wasn't a lot that she could say to that, so Regina just nodded. She kept her eyes on Emma the whole time, taking in her sharp cheekbones – still visible under her puffy skin – and her bright, unblinking eyes. Her hair was nearly dry and it looked so deliciously soft. The red of her sweater suited her.

In a cloud of wine and hopefulness Regina opened her mouth to say something – some of this. All of this. But suddenly Emma pushed herself off of the counter and walked over to the other side of the kitchen. She pressed the button on the toaster and watched as the bread sprang into view.

She sighed, tipping it onto the waiting plate. She brought it over to Regina.

It was an even, golden brown on both sides. Regina raised her eyebrows, looking up at Emma's expressionless face.

'It's perfect, Emma.'

Emma just looked down at it.

'Yeah,' she said. It sounded like her soul had been sucked from her. 'I think it's a bit burned at the top.'

Resisting the urge to reach out and slap the plate from her hand, Regina said, 'That's just the crust, you fool. It's toast. You couldn't have possibly done it any better.'

Emma's hand was still trembling, so Regina reached out and took the plate from her. She placed it on the counter next to her, and then picked up one of the slices.

'Do you mind?' she asked. Emma frowned.

'You're going to eat it?'

'Of course I am,' Regina said, biting down on the corner. 'I'm not throwing away perfectly good toast.'

As she chewed it, Emma's eyes began to fill with what looked so much like adoration that Regina nearly choked. Those swollen green eyes watched her, never once blinking, with gratitude nearly spilling over the lashes.

'You don't want some butter or something?' she asked quietly. Regina shrugged.

'Extra calories,' she said. 'I don't need them. Do you want the other slice?'

Emma blinked confusedly at the second piece that was on offer. If anything, it was less cooked than she liked it to be – she preferred her toast dark brown, with lashings of butter and Nutella. But that was something she tended to eat when Killian was out of the house.

She paused, then shook her head.

'I'll go clear the plates,' she said. She offered Regina a smile before she turned away, heading towards the door.

Regina looked down at the piece of toast in her hand. She wasn't even hungry, but she finished it. While she and Emma were clearing up the kitchen, she finished the second one. She made sure that Emma saw her do it.

* * *

'What do you do all day?' Regina asked, curling her legs up beneath her. 'If you don't work anymore?'

Emma was sat at the other end of the couch, her legs crossed. She had her back against the armrest so that she could face Regina.

She shrugged. 'I clean a lot.'

'And?'

'And make soup,' Emma said, and it took a moment for Regina to realise that she was joking. She smiled across the couch at her.

'Of course,' she said, sipping her wine. 'Who could forget about all the soup?'

Emma smiled back, rolling her eyes. Her freshly washed hair was tumbling about her shoulders like waves, and it looked somehow longer than it had done yesterday. She was slightly pink in the cheeks from the wine. In the dim light of the living room, her bruises weren't so obvious.

Emma rarely met Regina's gaze for more than a few seconds at a time, and while this made Regina's heart hurt – she of all people knew that trying to avoid people's eyes usually meant you were hoping they wouldn't notice you were there – it gave Regina the chance to look at her without being caught.

The sharply cut neckline of Emma's sweater slipped off of her shoulder, and Regina's gaze was immediately drawn to her bare skin. She felt her toes curl.

'I really don't know,' Emma said, and Regina jumped.

'Know what?' she asked.

'What I do all day,' Emma sighed. 'I do miss my job. Sometimes I think that maybe I should take on more work during the day, when Killian is out anyway.'

'Why don't you?'

There was a long pause.

'Because he caught me once,' Emma said.

'Oh,' Regina said, clutching her glass more tightly. 'What… what happened?'

Emma opened her mouth, and Regina was surprised, not expecting her to actually tell her. But no words came out. It dawned on Regina then that Emma had probably never said it aloud before – any of this, to anyone.

She watched as Emma cleared her throat, her eyes fixed on her wine glass once more.

'I don't think you actually want to know.'

That alone told Regina more than the truth ever could.

She reached out without thinking, pressing a cool hand against Emma's knee. Emma looked up at once, and for a rare moment they looked directly at one another, no words passing between them. Regina saw so much in those green eyes that it scared her – she saw fear, and gratitude, and self-loathing. But swimming above it all like the white edges of a wave was uncertainty: even now, Emma had absolutely no idea what she was doing there. She still couldn't understand why Regina had taken her in, or what she was going to do with her once the week was over and Henry was back in the house. Emma didn't know if this was permanent, or just another half-rotten step on a wooden staircase.

And Regina finally saw the truth that she'd been so worried about: Emma hadn't decided yet if she was going back to her husband. She wanted to leave him for good, but she hadn't had the chance to prove to herself that she could actually do it.

Before Emma could look away, Regina said, 'Please tell me.'

Emma could listen to the gentle way that Regina spoke to her all night long. For once, she didn't avert her gaze.

'I was handcuffed to the bed for three days.'

At once, Regina's entire body went cold. 'Excuse me?'

She watched as Emma's shoulders slumped forwards. 'I told you that you didn't want to know.'

Regina scoffed. Anger had built up so suddenly inside of her that she had to clench her fists, her nails digging into her palms. 'What happened, Emma?'

Emma rolled her eyes like this wasn't even a story worth telling.

'I went out a few times without him knowing,' she said, tilting her wine glass one way and then the other. 'Just to do some small jobs, to earn a bit of extra money. And then one day I came home, and he was already there. He was just sat on the couch waiting for me.'

Something was boiling up in Regina's stomach. 'And then what?'

'Well. He acted… normal,' Emma said, her voice becoming progressively quieter. 'Like he was happy to see me. He asked about my day and what we were having for dinner and did I remember to pick up his uniform from the dry cleaners. I assumed that he just thought that's where I'd been, so I started to relax a bit. And then he… he started kissing me, and I said that I had to start making dinner and he said that it could wait, because he'd missed me and he wanted me upstairs.'

She paused, looking up at Regina with cautious eyes. 'You probably don't want to hear any of this.'

And Regina didn't – not even slightly. But she still said, 'Please, Emma.'

Emma sighed, swallowing down the bile that had risen in her throat.

'He took me upstairs and we were kissing, and honestly it was the best it had been in a while. He was being a bit rough, but in a good way, and I was so… so _relieved_. So relieved that he didn't seem to be mad at me for once, and that he _wanted_ me, and that I was actually still worth something to him after all. He pushed me up against the wall and he was taking my clothes off, and I just let him. I didn't even question it. I was so… willing.'

For a moment, Regina thought she was about to be sick. The corners of Emma's mouth turned further downwards with every word she spoke, and she could see the self-hatred ebbing out of her. Hatred at her own stupidity, at her own hopefulness. At her decision to fall into her husband's arms, and then immediately getting punished for it.

'He took me over to the bed, and I didn't even notice that he was still fully dressed,' Emma said, her voice cracking. 'He made me lie down and he told me to wait there. And I _did_ it. Like a complete fucking idiot, I did as I was told. He left the room, and I waited and I was actually excited to find out what he was about to do. He came back after a minute and he was smiling at me, and then he grabbed my wrists and held them above me and got on top of me and kept kissing me, and I remember… I remember I was writhing around beneath him and he _knew_ that I wanted him. He had done it this way on purpose – he worked me up into a state just so that it would hurt me even more. I wouldn't just be scared – I would be disappointed. He deliberately turned me on as much as possible so that when he finally got his handcuffs and cuffed my wrists to the bed, he could walk away from me and call me… a…'

She was swallowing rapidly and Regina knew that her tears weren't far away. God, Regina wanted to reach out and touch her, but she was frozen, her own anger and nausea wrapped around her like ropes.

Emma looked up then, her eyes glassy. 'He called me a whore. It's his favourite word for me. He accuses me of cheating on him all day and all night, and he knows that I hate that word so he laughs whenever I flinch at it. So his punishment for me that day was to leave me there, naked, chained to the bed. I didn't eat or drink for three days. I'm not sure I even slept. And when he eventually came back, he…'

Her voice had descended to little more than a whisper, but Regina felt like she was screaming.

'He made me take the mattress outside by myself and scrub it clean in the back yard. He called me a disgusting whore for not managing to hold my pee for 72 hours.'

She had gone back to looking down at the couch, her whole body held tight like a spring. Every inch of her body told Regina that she was expecting her to laugh, or call her revolting, or tell her to get out of her house and never come back.

Instead, Regina set her glass down on the coffee table and inched forwards, wrapped one arm around Emma's shoulders and pulling her forwards. She could feel Emma resisting, her own wine glass and her damp curls caught between them. Then she leaned her head against Regina's shoulder and finally, finally let herself be held for a moment. Regina's hands were pressing against her back as she hugged her, and the feeling was so utterly unfamiliar to Emma that she felt like she could weep.

Regina held her as tightly as she could, her eyes screwed shut and her jaw clenching and unclenching over and over again. Emma's body was so thin and so brittle, like a plant that hadn't been watered in months, and she wanted to cry just from feeling it against her chest. But Emma's tears hadn't fallen yet, and so Regina wouldn't let herself crumble before she did. She held her more tightly still, the sour taste of her fury filling her mouth.

Even as Emma relaxed against her, Regina could feel how tense her muscles were. She was eternally ready to run. With that thought, Regina loosened her hold ever so slightly, hoping that Emma would realise it meant that if she wanted to, she could go. Regina wasn't going to stop her.

There was a long silence, interrupted only by the sound of Emma swallowing down her tears.

'Why did I just tell you all of that?' she murmured after a minute, her voice shaking. Regina could tell that her eyes were closed and she was wishing herself away from everything.

Regina reached up and gently pressed a hand against the back of her head.

'Probably because it was about time you told someone.'

* * *

Even though she'd chosen the smaller bedroom, it felt far too large. Emma stood at the edge of the bed, peeling off her clothes, checking each corner and each shadow before she moved. Regina was still downstairs, washing the wine glasses and locking the doors. Emma found herself wishing that she'd stayed with her.

She pulled on her pyjamas and started to scrape her hair back into a ponytail. She heard footsteps on the stairs, and moments later there was a light knock at her door.

Regina poked her head around the corner. Immediately, her face softened.

'You decided to wear them.'

Emma looked down at the grey pants and black shirt that Regina had given her the previous night. She tugged awkwardly at the shirt.

'They didn't really have any in the store,' she said. 'Is this okay?'

'Of course,' Regina said, taking a step into the room. 'They suit you.'

When Emma actually blushed at her words, Regina's heart swelled a bit more.

'How come you even have these?' Emma asked, looking down at the soft pants. 'They don't look like something you'd wear.'

'To be honest, I have no idea,' Regina said. 'Maybe I was trying something new that day.'

'Wow. New pyjamas,' Emma grinned. 'Quite the risk-taker.'

Regina smiled back at her, rolling her eyes like she always did. For a moment, they just looked across the room at one another, amused and utterly comfortable. Then Emma's smiled flickered, just like they had both expected it to at some point.

'Regina,' she said, sitting down at the end of the bed with a sigh. 'All the stuff I told you…'

She cringed as she said it, and Regina took a step closer. Emma had been surprisingly calm after her outburst on the couch, almost like she'd been holding onto that story since she'd arrived in Storybrooke and she was relieved to have finally gotten it out. But Regina knew that this newer, sourer feeling would come eventually: ever since, she had been waiting for Emma's disgust at having shared it, and disgust at having let herself go through it in the first place.

There was obviously a lot that needed to be said. But Emma just shook her head. 'Thank you for listening to me.'

Regina padded across the carpet and, after a pause, sat down next to her. She left a gap between them.

'You don't have to thank me for that,' she said. 'I'm glad you felt like you could tell me.'

'Yeah,' Emma said. She was looking down, like she usually did, but for once Regina followed her gaze: it was resting on their hands, which were placed in the gap between their legs. They were just a finger's width apart. 'It's… weird. I've never felt able to talk to anyone like I can with you.'

'Well. Like I said,' Regina swallowed, still looking down. If she stretched out her pinkie finger, it would graze against Emma's. 'Sometimes it's easier to talk to a stranger than a friend.'

'Regina,' Emma scoffed, shaking her head. 'You're not a stranger.'

'No?'

'Of course not. Come on – you already know more about me than anyone else does. I… I trust you. And maybe it's a bit weird to think we're friends already after only a couple of days, but…'

As soon as Emma's voice began to fade, Regina shifted her hand that last centimetre to the left, gently squeezing Emma's fingers beneath her own.

'It's not weird,' she said, and Emma looked up at her. Regina felt Emma's hand shift, and then her fingers were suddenly squeezing back. 'Look. Emma… life hasn't exactly been kind to you. That much is clear. But it won't always be like that – you've managed to get away from him now, and look how much has changed already. You made a friend. You met your son. You did all of that all on your own, because without your husband standing over you, telling you that you're doing everything wrong and only he will ever be able to tolerate you, you can finally be yourself. And yourself is _so_ much better than what he tells you.'

Emma was watching her with uncertain eyes. Regina could tell that she wanted to believe her – maybe a small part of her already did. But years of being trampled underfoot didn't get wiped away quite that easily, and Regina knew that his voice was still ringing in her head, telling her that she was being lied to: Regina was laughing at her behind her back, and her son was probably glad she'd given him up, because any sane person would be.

Regina could read Emma's face like a book, and she could see every single panicked thought flashing through her eyes. She squeezed slightly harder on her hand, trying to bring her back to her.

When Emma blinked, like she was jolting herself awake, Regina was waiting.

'Maybe your life can finally begin now, Emma,' she smiled, brushing over the back of Emma's hand with her thumb. 'You're free of him, and you can just be _you_ for once.'

Emma swallowed. 'I don't like me very much, though.'

'Well, _I_ do,' Regina said firmly. 'And you just said that you trust me, so you can trust that too – you're a good person, Emma. You deserve better than all this. You're kind and you're… you're beautiful. Try and let yourself believe that. Please.'

As Regina spoke, she watched Emma's face start to break. It was like she didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

She looked curiously back at Regina, wondering where the hell this woman had come from and what she had possibly done to deserve her. She noticed that the edges of Regina's lips were trembling slightly. Her gaze fell down to look at them, and it got caught there. She had a truly amazing mouth.

Emma felt a strange twitch in her hand, like it wanted to reach up and touch it. She even considered it. Something was melting inside her and it was a feeling so old and foreign to her that it took a while for her to recognise it.

She swallowed, shaking the thought from her mind, but still unable to tear her gaze away from those perfectly soft lips.

'Thank you,' she said quietly. Regina's hand on top of hers was cool, but when it squeezed her fingers once more, it felt like fire.

'You're welcome,' Regina replied, feeling her whole body prickle under Emma's intense stare. Finally, those green eyes looked back up and met her own, and Regina felt like she was drowning.

Neither one of them blinked. They didn't want to be the first one to look away.


	6. Chapter 6

Regina woke up to the sound of an engine. It was coming from somewhere far away, rumbling like distant thunder. In the absolute quietness of her bedroom it jolted her awake like a nightmare.

Regina realised that it was coming from the road out the front of the house. She glanced at the clock – 3:04am – and climbed out of bed, feeling her joints creaking in protest as she walked over to the window. She pulled back the curtain, but Mifflin Street didn't run far enough around the house for her to see it properly. She would have to be in another room – like the one that Emma was currently sleeping in.

Except Regina knew without a shadow of a doubt that Emma wasn't asleep. The car engine would have startled her awake far sooner than it had done Regina. Right at that moment, Emma would be pressed up against her own window, her breath clouding the glass and her stomach tied in a knot.

Regina squinted through the darkness. The engine was a fairly innocuous sound, but she knew that something was wrong. The noise jarred like a slash of black paint on a pastel watercolour background.

She groaned to herself.  _Just go back to sleep_. But as usual, she ignored her own advice and turned away from the bed, making her way towards the hall instead.

As soon as she opened the door to the guest bedroom, she saw Emma's outline against the window. She was stood far to one side, the curtains bunched in her fist. Her breathing was shaky as she peered out through the tiny gap.

'Emma?'

For once, Emma didn't jump. She must have heard her coming.

'Why is there a car outside?' she asked quietly, not turning around.

Regina sighed, taking a step into the room.

'I don't know,' she said, joining Emma at the window. 'Maybe they got lost.'

She peeked through the gap that Emma had created and looked down into the dark street. There was a black car outside with darkened windows. Its engine was running, but its headlamps were off.

Regina frowned, inching the curtain slightly further open.

'Have you ever seen that car before?' Emma whispered. Regina was already trying to remember.

'I'm… not sure,' she admitted. 'Maybe. It's too dark to tell. Can you see the license plate?'

Emma shook her head. 'Does this happen a lot? Cars coming down here at night?'

Deep down, Regina knew that it didn't. She wasn't sure that it had ever happened in the 28 years that she'd lived in that house. But Emma's hand was trembling as she held the curtains open, and when Regina glanced to her left she could see that Emma's face was pale with terror.

So she shrugged. 'Probably. I don't normally wake up in the night, so I must just miss it.'

'But you woke up tonight.'

'I did,' Regina replied, her gaze still on the car outside. The fact that she couldn't see inside those blackened windows was beginning to irritate her beyond belief. 'Probably because I was worried about you.'

Emma's body seemed to tense and relax all at once. It had been some time since someone had worried about her.

But before she could reply, the engine suddenly got louder. She flinched back from the window, trying to hide herself behind the curtain. Regina remained exactly where she was, staring out of the glass with narrowed eyes.

'It's leaving,' she said, watching as the car began to slowly roll down the road. 'It's okay, Emma. They must have just been checking their GPS.'

She looked to her left. Emma was pressed back against the wall, her curls wild and spilling across her shoulders. When Regina looked at her properly, taking in the hollows under her eyes and the dryness of her lips, she realised that the car hadn't woken her up – she'd been wide awake already.

'Have you slept at all?' she asked. Emma just looked at her, not saying a word.

'Is the bed uncomfortable?' Regina continued, looking across at it. It was the same mattress as her own, just slightly smaller, but maybe it was too firm for other people.

'The bed is fine,' Emma said, rubbing a hand over her eyes. 'I just… couldn't sleep.'

'Maybe you should have stuck to the couch after all,' Regina smiled. 'When I came downstairs yesterday morning you looked pretty out of it.'

There was a long pause before Emma admitted, 'I fell asleep at 6am.'

'You what?'

'Once I'm asleep, I tend to stay that way,' Emma said, going back to the window so that she could check the street again 'But it just… It takes me a while to get there.'

Regina looked over at her, her throat feeling suddenly sore. 'You should have said – I have sleeping pills, or… I don't know. More alcohol.'

Emma laughed. 'It's okay. I just have too much on my mind, I guess. I've been like this for a while.'

She peeled back the curtain a little further, her lips pressed together.

'But that'll probably stop eventually,' she said quietly, turning to Regina. 'Right?'

Regina nodded, but it wasn't convincing. 'I'm sure it will.'

They stayed at the window for a few more minutes, watching silently in case the car came back. But the street had fallen quiet again, and eventually Regina found herself stifling a yawn.

Emma looked over at her. 'Oh – sorry, you must be exhausted. You should go back to bed.'

Regina was internally agreeing with her, but when it came down to it, she couldn't quite bring herself to leave.

'Will you be okay?'

'I'll be fine,' Emma said, but in the bluish light coming from the road her skin looked almost translucent. 'Really. Don't worry.'

The smile that she offered was supposed to be reassuring, but it was so pathetic that it made Regina's eyes roll.

'Would you…' Regina said, stopping herself when she realised what she was about to offer. Then Emma looked curiously round at her, and she said it anyway. 'Would you like me to stay in here with you?'

Emma blinked. Her mouth suddenly went dry. 'You… what?'

'If it'll help you sleep,' Regina shrugged like it made no difference to her, when in reality her heart was thrumming like the engine that had just rolled away down the street. She glanced over at the bed: the sheets were tangled and the pillows were all at odd angles, like Emma had spent the best part of the night thrashing around trying to tire herself out. 'I can sleep almost anywhere. Though, you can just come into my room, if you like.'

Emma pressed her lips together. 'I… can't. I think I need to be able to see the window now.'

She blushed furiously as she spoke, and for the hundredth time Regina was filled with the desperate urge to reach out and hold her.

'Alright,' she said instead, pulling down on the hem of her silk cami. 'Why don't you straighten those sheets a bit, and I'll be right back.'

She left the room, and Emma immediately threw herself towards the bed, pulling the crumpled duvet taut and realigning the pillows. As she was moving about, she caught sight of herself in the mirror. She swore to herself, reaching up to try and flatten her tangled hair.

Down the hall, Regina was quickly brushing her teeth in the darkness of her bathroom. Just as she was headed for the door, she paused, eyeing the bottle of perfume by the mirror. She reached out for it – then, no.  _That's too much. Don't be ridiculous._

She returned to the guest bedroom with her pillow in her arms. Emma was sat on the edge of the bed, frantically trying to tie her hair into what would appear to be an effortless ponytail. She looked up when she realised that Regina had returned and hesitantly let her hair slide free again. She tried not to stare at Regina's bare legs in her silk pyjama shorts.

'What's that?' she asked, nodding at the pillow. Regina walked over to the bed and dropped it on the left hand side.

'Memory foam,' she said, peeling back the sheets. 'I get neck pain.'

Emma watched as she climbed into the bed, sliding her tan legs beneath the sheets. Her hair looked strangely glossy in the dark.

'You're probably stressed.'

'Oh, I'm definitely stressed,' Regina said, turning to rearrange the pillows behind her. 'I'm babysitting a 28-year-old, after all.'

Those words, from anyone else, in any other circumstances, would have made Emma blush furiously and apologise for being such an inconvenience. But, as with most things that Regina said to her, Emma could hear the joking tone that lingered within her voice. She smiled and walked over to the right side of the bed.

'That must be a pain in the ass,' she said, climbing up to join her. 'I just hope she's not a kicker.'

'If she's a kicker, I'll kick her straight onto the floor.'

Emma snorted, fluffing up her own pillows. 'You weigh about a hundred pounds soaking wet, Regina. I'd like to see you try.'

She heard a light chuckle of amusement from beside her, but for once Regina didn't snipe back at her. When Emma had finished dealing with her own pillows, she turned around to find that Regina was already lying down, the sheets pulled up to her chest and her hands folded on top.

Immediately, Emma felt guilty. She had no idea where the feeling came from but it felt like it was going to suffocate her. She swallowed, glancing down at Regina's perfectly straight legs and then at her own skinny, crossed ones. The bed suddenly seemed much too small.

Regina felt the mood shift at once, and glanced over at the woman who was sitting next to her.

'It's okay,' she said, and Emma blinked. 'I don't mind. You don't have to feel bad.'

'How did you…?'

'You're very easy to read,' Regina yawned, rubbing a hand over her face. 'Even in the dark.'

Although she couldn't say why this was comforting to her, Emma found herself sliding down between the sheets, her heart momentarily lighter.

She normally slept in a ball curled over on her right side, but if she did that then she would be looking directly at Regina. Instead she matched Regina's position, staring up at the ceiling with her.

She knew pretty quickly that she wasn't going to be falling asleep any time soon.

Before she'd met Killian, Emma had been a wriggler – she had slept diagonally across the bed, turning over every five minutes, with her legs or feet or hands constantly shifting around because she liked the feeling of them moving over the sheets. Within a few weeks of meeting Killian, though, he'd made it clear that that wasn't working for him. Over the last couple of years she'd learned to fall asleep just by curling up as small as she could and staying very, very still.

But now she couldn't do that either. She was pretty sure that Regina wasn't about to shout at her for having cold feet or moving her legs too much, but Emma was all too aware of how she'd disturbed her sleep in the first place. She didn't want to ruin her night any more if she could help it.

Emma kept her eyes on the ceiling, tapping her fingers against the back of her other hand. She could smell mint. Had Regina brushed her teeth? God, she should have done that too.  _I wonder if she'll hear me if I sneak off now…_

'Stop that.'

Emma jumped, turning her head to her right. 'Stop what?'

'You're vibrating,' Regina said, her eyes closed. 'Stop thinking so much.'

'Sorry,' she said. 'I can't get comfortable.'

'You don't have to lie like you're in a sarcophagus just because I am,' Regina murmured. 'I told you, I can sleep anywhere. Get comfy.'

At once, Emma flipped onto her side and drew her knees up against her stomach. She knocked against Regina's leg as she moved, but there was no protest.

Shimmying down beneath the duvet, Emma slid one hand between her two pillows and screwed up the other one in the sheets, bringing them up to her chin. She breathed a sigh of relief.

'Better?'

'Much,' Emma said, looking up. Regina's shoulder was just inches away from the tip of her nose, and from that angle she could see the gentle curve of her dark eyelashes. 'Thank you.'

'You're welcome.'

Regina's voice was getting softer, and Emma knew she would lose her soon. She wriggled a bit more, then pulled her left hand free of the sheets and rubbed it against her nose. She felt more comfortable, but she was also awake. Very awake. She squeezed her eyes closed and waited for something to happen.

She could smell Regina now, though, and it was distracting. She smelled like spearmint toothpaste and expensive perfume and clean laundry, and while it was comforting, it was also bewildering. Emma could feel her skin starting to tingle.

Forcing herself not to open her eyes just so that she could look at Regina while she was dropping off, Emma breathed in through her nose as deeply as she could. She could still smell the toast on her.

'Are you worried about that car?' Regina suddenly asked, and Emma's eyes snapped open.

'What?'

'The car,' Regina murmured. Her eyes were still closed and her position hadn't changed, but seemingly she wasn't any closer to falling asleep than Emma was. 'I don't want you to be panicking about it. It was probably just some fool who can't follow directions.'

Emma propped herself up onto one elbow, frowning.

'Why are you still thinking about it then?'

'Because I know you're still wide awake,' Regina sighed, finally opening her eyes. She turned her head to face Emma.

Emma swallowed. 'I'm sorry. I'm trying not to keep you up.'

'I know you are, but I can still hear those cogs turning,' Regina said, reaching out to tap one finger gently against Emma's forehead. 'Tell me the truth. Are you scared?'

Emma shrugged. 'I wasn't actually thinking about it. But, yeah. I am.'

'You think it was your husband?'

'I have no idea who I think it was,' Emma sighed, flopping down onto her back once more. 'It wasn't his car, but I guess that doesn't mean much. He could have rented one, or he could have sent someone else to find me.'

'Does he have any way of tracking you?'

Emma shook her head, frowning up at the ceiling. 'I don't think so – I left my cell behind. All I brought with me was my car and my wallet. I haven't used the cards connected to our accounts since days before I left.'

Regina tried to smile reassuringly, even though Emma wasn't looking at her. 'Then it probably wasn't him, Emma. No one else knows about this town. No one would think to come here.'

'I know that,' Emma said, closing her eyes. 'I just… it's hard to shake the feeling that you're being followed when you've spent the last two years of your life having someone monitor every single thing that you do.'

Regina hated it when Emma's voice took on that tone – that tenor of self-hatred, because she was stupid enough to let it carry on for so long and stupid enough to still want to go back to it.

Regina kept looking at her, relishing the fact that Emma's eyes were closed and she couldn't see her staring. Lying to Emma's right, Regina couldn't see her bruises anymore.

It was nearly 4am and the darkest part of the night had passed. In the new, murky greyness she could almost see the freckles on Emma's nose.

'Can I ask you something?' she said quietly. Emma turned to look at her, her eyebrows raised.

'Sure.'

Regina cleared her throat.

'Why didn't you leave him before now?' she asked.

Emma sighed. 'I don't know, Regina.'

'Yes, you do,' Regina prompted her gently. 'You can tell me.'

Next to her, Emma's body was warm and her muscles were tightly clenched. She rolled over onto her side so she was facing Regina once more.

'Have you ever been in love?'

As she always did when she thought of Daniel, Regina's winced.

'Yes. Once.'

'And how did he treat you?' Emma asked. 'What was he like?'

'He… treated me like I was a princess,' Regina said. 'He was patient with me, and he was kind. He would have done anything I'd asked of him.'

Emma fell silent for a moment. Then she said, 'Killian was like that at first, but… there were always all these conditions. I didn't really notice them at the time. It was always "you're so beautiful Emma, and you always do as I say" or "I love you so much, because you let me break your walls down". It was like being brainwashed. All my life I had thought that I was worthless and then he came along and told me that no, I wasn't – I was worth something to him. But only as long as I did whatever he said.'

Regina's heart throbbed. Emma's face, just inches away, looked like a child's. 'I can imagine.'

'But the thing is, I  _knew_ something wasn't right. Any time I said something he didn't like and he glared at me until I shut up, I would think, "Is this what it's meant to be like? Is this what other couples do?" And I knew it wasn't. But it had taken me so long to find him and he still made me happy, most of the time, so I just… acclimatised. Not being able to have any guy friends was a small price to pay for having someone to hold my hand and tell me that I was okay after all.'

'I think I can understand all that,' Regina said, unable to take her eyes off of her: Emma was curled up so tightly, with her cheek rubbing back and forth against the pillow and the sheets pulled up close to her chin, one hand just about visible over the top, that it looked like she was trying to disappear altogether. 'What I don't understand is why you didn't leave the first time he laid a hand on you. You've gotten mad at me enough times in the last few days for me to know that you're not the type of person to take much shit. Why was it different with him?'

It was evidently a question that Emma didn't like to ask herself, much less answer. She peeked up through her eyelashes, and in that glance Regina saw just how scared she was – and not just of her husband. Emma was afraid of what Regina was going to think of her.

Without thinking, Regina reached across the covers and squeezed her hand.

'It's okay,' she said. Emma looked down at where their skin was touching and sighed.

'I told you about the first time he hit me – it was the day when he shut me out on the porch and told me to wait there.'

'Yes,' Regina swallowed. 'I remember.'

'When it happened I was so… shocked. I thought that I must have done something really terrible and I just couldn't remember what it was. He was angry and upset and I was so stunned by the fact that he'd actually  _hit_ me that I just… went numb. I did as he asked. I thought that eventually he'd let me back in the house and we'd talk about it and I would apologise and he would too and everything would be okay. I just assumed that this was my fault, and so everything would be alright if I just waited.'

'But what actually happened?'

Emma's eyes closed. 'He didn't speak to me at all. It was freezing cold and he made me wait out there for hours before he finally opened the front door, and then he just walked upstairs without saying a word. When I came to bed he just ignored me. Eventually, when he finally decided to talk to me again a few days later, I felt so relieved that I just told myself to forget about it – it was a one-off thing, and he was under a lot of stress at work, and it wasn't worth throwing away the best thing that had ever happened to me over a stupid argument that had gotten a bit out of hand.'

'Okay,' Regina said slowly, like she understood. 'Then what?'

Shame was radiating from Emma's stiff body. Her blonde curls were spread across the pillows between them – Regina could feel one tickling against her cheek.

'I asked him why he did it.'

'You did?'

'Yeah. It was a week later and he'd been good to me ever since, so I thought that we were past it. We were on the couch and I said that we needed to talk about it. He said that there wasn't anything to talk about and I told him that there  _was_ , because I'd never seen him like that before and I still didn't even know what I did to upset him so much. And he just went  _cold_. He wouldn't look at me. He sighed, and said that he'd made a mistake marrying me. Said that I was the worst thing that had ever happened to him.'

Regina's jaw tightened. 'I would have told him to go and screw himself.'

To her surprise, Emma laughed. 'I  _did_.'

'You… what?'

'I told him to go and fuck himself. I said that if he couldn't even give me an explanation, much less an  _apology_ , for why he'd locked me out of my own house, then maybe being the worst thing to ever happen to him wasn't such a bad thing. And I got up to leave.'

Regina felt that familiar plummet in her stomach. Emma carried on without being prompted.

'He pulled me back and beat me so hard that I couldn't leave the house for two weeks. That was the first and only time that I fought back. He had me against the wall and he was hitting me over and over again and he was  _screaming_ at me, and I hit him back hard enough to make him stop for a second. Then he pinned me there with a hand around my throat until I passed out.

'When I came to, I was on the living room floor and Killian was there, next to me, crying. He cried into my stomach and even though he could see that I was in pain and I couldn't move, he begged me not to leave him. He finally said he was sorry. My face was all swollen and I couldn't speak, and he used that moment to say anything he wanted – that he loved me, that he needed me. That he would die without me. That he'd be different from now on. That I needed to be different too. That he was the only man who'd ever love me because I was so fucking stubborn and cold and difficult to be around, and if I left him then I'd spend my whole life regretting it. He knew every single one of my insecurities and my inadequacies and he used them all against me in the space of about fifteen minutes. I just let it all wash over me and I was so numb with shock that it didn't even occur to me that none of it was true.'

She finally looked back up, and she flinched when she realised that Regina looked like she was about to burst into tears.

'Do you still believe it?' Regina asked, her voice cracking.

Emma's expression didn't change. 'Honestly?'

'Yes.'

'…yeah. I do.'

'How can you  _possibly_ —'

'I know, Regina,' Emma said quietly. 'I know it's bullshit. I know that being with someone who beats you is not better than just being alone. But that doesn't stop my heart from hurting just from the thought of him leaving me, and it doesn't stop me from loving him. I've needed him for so long and… I guess when you think so little of yourself anyway, it doesn't matter so much if someone hits you occasionally. I don't feel like I deserve any better.'

Those words rang in Regina's head like a gunshot. She opened her mouth, ready to splutter out her objections, but speech was suddenly beyond her. She had never been so sad or so angry before in her entire life.

She reached out one hand, pressing it firmly against the back of Emma's head. Emma blinked at her, those tiny, delicate freckles on her nose just a breath away.

'You,' Regina said as resolutely as she could, 'deserve  _everything_. You deserve friends, and you deserve to feel safe in your own home. If you did leave him, maybe you wouldn't find another man to love you – who knows? It's not  _important_. You shouldn't live your entire life in fear because the threat of being lonely is somehow greater than the threat of having your jaw broken. You can't have such a low regard for yourself, Emma – you're so much better than all that. You're so much better than him.'

Emma frowned, feeling the pressure of Regina's hand sliding from the back of her head to the side of her face.

'It's weird,' she said quietly. 'I want to believe you. But for some reason his voice is always louder than anyone else's.'

'Because he's in your head, Emma,' Regina said, resisting the urge to shake it and knock him out of there. 'He's wormed his way into all of your deepest fears and made you think that he's the only thing holding you together. Think of the person you were before you met him – you were  _strong_ , and you were capable. How can it possibly be an improvement for you to have lost all of that?'

Emma's jaw was trembling now. 'Because I was so lonely back then. I was lost. Killian… grounded me.'

Regina paused. She didn't want to say it, but Emma's wide, pleading eyes wouldn't let her lie.

'He trapped you, Emma,' she murmured, grazing her thumb against Emma's bruised temple. 'He tricked you into loving him.'

Emma just scoffed. 'Human beings aren't puppets, Regina.'

'You're right. They're not.' Regina took a deep breath. 'That's why you need to stop being his.'

'And then what?' Emma asked. 'Be what instead?'

Regina felt her eyes drop down to look at Emma's mouth. Her lower lip was trembling.

'Just be you,' she said quietly. 'You're perfect as you are.'

As her words faded away, Regina realised that she could hear Emma breathing. It was softer than she'd expected, and steadier. Emma's eyes were glassy and wide as she looked back at her, feeling the gratitude fill her up like warm water. She couldn't remember the last time someone had made her feel like that.

Somehow Regina knew that Emma was going to lean towards her, but when she did, it still took her by surprise. The sheets between them shifted and the air started to spark; heavy with electricity and overflowing with warmth. Regina blinked as Emma kissed her, her lips so devastatingly soft and unfamiliar that she didn't dare breathe in case she broke the spell.

When Emma pulled back again, her forehead was creased. Her gaze skittered down to look at Regina's mouth, which was still pursed and tingling, and she waited for what was coming next. The old, angry voice in her head told her it was going to be rejection, but for once, she decided to wait and see. Regina's words were still floating from her brain down to the tips of her fingers and somehow they told her that everything might be okay after all.

Regina swallowed, her hand still resting against the side of Emma's face. It slid backwards, reaching around to cup the base of her skull, and she pulled Emma back towards her. Their lips pressed together once more, and that flame that had been flickering deep in the pit of Regina's stomach for days sparked up into a fire.

She moved her mouth against Emma's, gently parting her lips, and let her fingers thread through her tangled hair. She felt Emma's hand slide under the sheets until it was resting on the curve of her waist, and just like that Regina's entire world was warm and okay again, filled with soft light and the smell of vanilla and golden brown toast.

The sharp edge of Emma's teeth dug into Regina's bottom lip as she pulled her closer. Sliding her left arm beneath Emma's body, she felt the bumps of her ribcage gently rising and falling as she pressed a hand against her back. She grazed her fingers over them, tears nearly springing up in her eyes when she heard Emma whimper from her delicate touch.

Emma shuffled closer, her fingers sliding downwards and gripping tightly onto Regina's thigh while her other hand rose up to cup her face. Kissing Regina was so different to anything she'd ever felt before – her skin was so perfectly smooth, and she could feel the gentle pressure of her breasts pressed up against her. Her kisses managed to be soft and desperate all at once, and they made Emma's head muggy with longing. She sighed, her tongue sliding deep into Regina's mouth as she let her hand skate further up her thigh. It reached the silky edge of her shorts and she paused, waiting for Regina to push her away or tell her to stop, but she just seemed to kiss her harder. Her pillowy lips were pressed firmly against Emma's and with every delicate flick of her tongue, Emma felt herself come more and more undone.

She slid her hand beneath Regina's shorts, gently cupping her ass, and grinned when she felt Regina moan into her mouth. She immediately tugged her closer, grabbing Regina's deliciously toned leg and hitching it up over her own. With their entire bodies pressed together and their hands wandering, trying to pull the other somehow closer still, the kisses became less gentle. Emma could feel Regina's nails digging into the back of her neck and she could hear her own soft whimpers as their tongues brushed together. Regina slid one hand back down Emma's body and let it rest against her breast, pausing, waiting for permission, before she squeezed it through her shirt. Emma moaned, tipping her head backwards, and then Regina's lips were on her throat, leaving a trail of wet kisses from her jaw down to her shoulders.

The bruises on Emma's face were throbbing and her head was beginning to spin, but none of it mattered. She released Regina's leg and reached up to cup her face, guiding their mouths back together. As soon as their lips collided Regina nudged Emma backwards until she was pressed down into the pillows, and Regina could stretch out her body on top of her.

Keeping her leg hooked around Emma's, Regina pushed her hands back underneath Emma's hair. Emma caught her lower lip between her teeth and gently tugged, opening her eyes for just a second to look at the woman lying above her. Regina's dark hair was falling across her face, and the way that her eyelashes curved down against the apples of her cheeks made Emma's breath catch. She immediately wrapped her arms around Regina's neck and pulled her as close to her body as she could. She was so warm – somehow soft and toned at the same time – and the almost painful throbbing that had started up between her legs told her with a shot of delicious terror that she had no idea at what point – or if at all – she would be able to stop this.

But before she had time to worry about it, Regina suddenly pulled away.

'Emma,' she gasped, breathless from the exertion of stopping. She held Emma by the sides of her face, never for a second looking away from her eyes. 'We… we have to stop.'

Emma blinked up at her.

'Why?' she asked, reaching out to push the loose hair away from Regina's face.

Resisting the urge to melt into Emma's hand, Regina said, 'We just… we can't do this. It's not right.'

At once, Emma's face fell. She looked away, swallowing against the lump that had formed so rapidly in her throat.

'Oh.'

She started to pull away, attempting to wriggle out from under Regina and roll away to the other side of the bed. Regina eased off of her, moving back onto her side, but her hands never left Emma's face, refusing to let her turn away.

'No,' she firmly. 'It's not that.'

'Not what?' Emma mumbled, looking anywhere but at the woman lying three inches away from her.

'Whatever it is that you're thinking,' Regina said, shuffling even further forwards so that their noses were nearly touching. She rubbed her thumb against Emma's cheek. 'I haven't just realised that that was terrible. I don't regret doing it. I don't find you repulsive and I'm not going to mock you for this tomorrow.'

Emma swallowed, finally meeting Regina's gaze. The disappointment in her eyes was crushing. 'Then… why…?'

'It's not right,' Regina said. 'You're married. You're going through a lot of pain right now and you're vulnerable and you just need some comfort. And, god, I'm willing to give it to you, but… I'd just be taking advantage of you. I can't do that.'

Emma looked back at her with a creased forehead and eyes that darted from Regina's lips to her lashes and back again. It was like she understood all of those words, but not in that order.

Regina sighed. 'You know that I want you, Emma. But not like this. Not before you're ready.'

'I  _am_ ready,' Emma protested, and Regina raised her eyebrows.

'Are you?' she asked, finally taking her hands away from Emma's face now that she was sure she wasn't going to pull away from her. 'Tell me – do you still love your husband?'

Even in the dark, she could see that Emma's cheeks were burning. '…yes.'

'Do you feel like you belong to him?'

'I… guess so.'

Regina smiled like her heart wasn't breaking. 'And that's okay – I wouldn't expect you not to. The last few days have been probably the scariest of your life and I just… I don't want you to do this if you don't really mean it. And I don't think you're really in the position to know that right now.'

Emma closed her eyes. She muttered, 'I wish you'd stop being so reasonable.'

Regina laughed, but she had heard the wobble of pain beneath Emma's words.

'I know that this feels like just another rejection, but it's not. It's… more like a rain check.'

In spite of herself, Emma felt herself smiling. 'A rain check on making out?'

'Exactly,' Regina smiled back, reaching up one hand to stroke her thumb along Emma's cheekbone. Her leg was still hitched up over Emma's hip, and underneath the covers she could feel Emma's fingers resting on her thigh. She swallowed. God, she could have stayed like that forever.

Emma sighed, shuffling forwards ever so slightly so that she could lean her forehead against Regina's.

'You're a really good kisser,' she mumbled, and she sounded so much like a shy teenager that Regina couldn't help but reach out and tilt her chin upwards. She pressed a gentle kiss on her mouth and nearly cried when she saw the relieved smile that was left behind.

'I'm glad you think so,' Regina replied, finally pulling her leg off of Emma's. She rolled onto her back, aiming to give Emma a bit of space, but almost at once she felt a blonde head nestling against her shoulder, one hand sliding under the covers to rest on her stomach.

'Is this okay?' Emma asked quietly.

It was more than okay. Regina slid her arm beneath Emma's neck and pulled her closer, turning her head so that she could bury her nose in her curls. The smell of them alone made the muscles between her legs clench.

'It's perfect,' she replied, squeezing her eyes shut.

They both fell quiet, and just when Regina thought that Emma had finally gone to sleep, her voice rose up through the darkness.

'Thank you for being patient with me.'

Regina smiled to herself. The hand that Emma had placed on her stomach was tracing a pattern against the silk of her shirt.

'Of course,' Regina replied. 'As long as it takes.'

Finally, for the first time since they'd met, she felt Emma relax.


	7. Chapter 7

It wasn't a noise that woke Emma, but a smell. It wasn't strong, or unpleasant – in fact, it was probably Emma's new favourite scent in the whole world. But it was still mostly unfamiliar to her, and it dragged her out of her restless sleep like a fishing hook.

She opened her eyes and found herself face to face with Regina and her aroma of clean sheets and expensive shampoo. She was fast asleep on the other side of the bed, breathing softly into the pillow. At some point during the night she had turned over onto her stomach, causing her hair to fall across her face, and the sight of her automatically made Emma smile. She wanted to look at Regina properly, but she resisted the urge to push her hair away from her face.

Emma had barely been asleep for three hours, but the memories from the previous night took a minute to come creeping back to her. She looked down at Regina's lips, which even in her sleep were deliciously pouted, and shivered. She could remember all too vividly what it had felt like to have them pressed up against her own, gently teasing them open, invading her mouth with a wickedly sharp tongue. But she could also remember what it had felt like to be pushed away again, and her cheeks burned at the thought. Her heart leapt, trying to tug her towards Regina and pull her away from her all at once.

 _That was the stupidest thing you have ever done_.

She knew that Regina had been right to stop things: Emma hadn't been thinking straight, and if they had gone any further they probably wouldn't have been able to look one another in the eye that morning. Regina had been sensible and thoughtful on her behalf and Emma knew that she should be grateful for that, but looking across the bed at those pillowy lips, she wasn't sure that she had the capacity to.

The urge to kiss her all over again was bubbling up inside her and so Emma forced herself to sit upright, running her hands through her hair. _God, can't you do anything_ _right?_

Her husband's face was sneering at her inside her own head, and she shuddered. She knew then, without any trace of doubt, that he was going to kill her when he found out. Because it wasn't a question of if, and it wasn't a question of what: he would find out, and he would end her. He wouldn't even think twice.

Emma groaned, glancing back across at where Regina was sleeping. Just the sight of her made her stomach twist in a way that half came from longing and half from humiliation, and so she forced herself to climb out of bed. She headed for the door, not letting herself look back.

The sound of the bathroom door clicking shut somehow jolted Regina awake. She lifted her head off of the pillow, looking around for Emma, and found an expanse of empty bed beside her. She sighed, rolling over onto her back.

She could hear Emma getting in the shower two rooms away. She knew that this in and of itself didn't mean a lot – but Regina had been asleep, and Emma hadn't woken her up. She'd just walked out. That was what said so much.

Regina pressed her fingers to her lips. They were still tingling.

She hadn't lied to Emma when she'd told her that she wouldn't regret what had happened – already, just a few hours later, she missed it. She could still feel Emma's hands on her body and her teeth nipping against her lower lip, and the memory sent a tremor of longing through her limbs. But she couldn't focus on it for too long, as much as she wanted to, because a new thought was preoccupying her.

Emma was upset. Rightfully so, perhaps – but that's exactly what Regina had been trying to avoid. It was so typical of her; any time she tried to do the good thing – the _right_ thing – she ended up hurting someone. She threw her arm across her face, groaning into the crook of her elbow.

But there was only so long she could stay there, and eventually she forced herself out from between the rumpled sheets, straightening them as best as she could. She left the room and walked in the opposite direction to Emma, closing her bedroom door behind her.

* * *

Regina had showered, put on her make up and gotten dressed before Emma had even resurfaced from the bathroom. On her way downstairs Regina stopped outside the door, almost raising her fist to knock. Then she stopped herself and headed down to the kitchen, knowing full well that Emma was waiting for her to go away before she came out from behind the door.

Even so, Regina was by herself in the kitchen for a long time before Emma finally decided to join her. Regina was leaning against the counter, a pot of coffee already brewed beside her, her eyes on the empty plates and glasses of juice that she'd set out on the bar. She drummed her fingers against the edge of the counter, wondering at exactly what point she should just give up and eat alone. Then she heard soft, slow footsteps on the stairs. She immediately turned her back, reaching for the coffee pot and pouring out two cups, making sure that she looked busy when the door finally opened.

Emma edged into the room, her heart lodged somewhere near her throat. The sight of Regina's turned back didn't make her feel any better. She swallowed, letting the door shut quietly behind her before she forced out, 'Morning.'

Regina turned around like she hadn't heard her come in. 'Oh. Good morning, Emma. Would you like some coffee?'

Emma nodded. 'Please.'

'I'm making eggs,' Regina said, gesturing for Emma to sit down. She reluctantly did so. 'I was just waiting to find out how you like them.'

'Um. Scrambled, please.'

'Not a problem,' Regina said, dropping Emma's milky coffee in front of her. She smiled briefly at her before she turned away and headed over to the stove.

Emma cleared her throat, looking down at the glass of orange juice that had been waiting for her when she came in. Regina was acting normal, at least. Maybe she wouldn't even want to talk about what had happened.

Emma took a deep breath and pulled her coffee closer, peeking up through her lashes to watch Regina's easy movements around the kitchen. Her glossy hair swung as she walked, just tickling her shoulders. She was wearing a tightly fitted white shirt tucked into black pants, and the sight of her delectably slim waist and straining top button made Emma's cheeks flush dark red. She looked back down again, staring into her coffee cup.

'Emma?'

She flinched, not raising her eyes.

'Yeah?'

'Could you make some toast?'

The word made her blood go instantly icy. Without responding, Emma got up from her seat and made her way over to the toaster. Regina glanced over her shoulder and saw how hunched her posture was as she tore into the loaf of bread, tossing four slices into the toaster like they were rotting in her hands.

Regina swallowed, turning back to the stove. She grabbed a spoon and lifted it up, ready to start cooking, but something stopped her. She turned back to face Emma.

'Are you okay?'

Emma started so abruptly that Regina heard her neck click. Not looking around, Emma tilted the toaster towards her and peered down into it at the bread that had only just started cooking.

'Yeah, I'm good,' she said, and to anyone's ears, she sounded normal. But Regina had already seen the hard line of her jaw and the faint blush in her cheeks. Usually Emma had a tough time meeting her gaze, but today she wouldn't even look up.

'Are you sure?' Regina asked softly, tapping the wooden spoon against her thigh. 'I want to talk about this. Do you think maybe—?'

'This toast will be ready in a minute,' Emma interrupted, not taking her eyes off of the bread. It wasn't even close to being done. 'Are the eggs cooked?'

Regina frowned. 'I haven't started them yet.'

'Okay,' Emma said. She swallowed, and the noise was impossibly loud in her ears. 'I'll just keep checking this.'

'Okay,' Regina said slowly. 'But can we please—?'

'Did you want white bread, by the way?' Emma cut over the top of her, still not looking around. 'I didn't ask.'

Regina narrowed her eyes. 'White is fine.'

Emma just nodded, still staring down at the toaster. The heat that was radiating from it made her face feel like it was on fire.

Regina gritted her teeth and finally turned back to the stove. She made their scrambled eggs in silence, grinding her teeth more and more aggressively every time she heard Emma press the button on the toaster to check that she wasn't burning their breakfast, then slowly push the lever back down again.

The toast still wasn't quite brown when Regina asked Emma to bring it across because their eggs were ready, but she took it out anyway. Emma handed Regina the two plates with her eyes pointed resolutely at the floor.

'You can sit down,' Regina said, and Emma turned away at once, shuffling over to the island. Regina glanced over her shoulder and watched her go: Emma was wearing a black sweater over dark blue jeans, and she had pulled the sleeves down over her hands like she was trying to make them disappear. Pressing her lips together, Regina turned back to the stove, scraping the scrambled eggs out of the pan and onto the insipid toast.

She carried the plates over to the bar and handed one to Emma, who murmured her thanks as she took it but still didn't look up. She started to eat as soon as Regina had sat down opposite her. Regina, meanwhile, rested her arms on the table and watched her, not picking up her own fork. She knew from the way that Emma's chewing slowed down that she could feel herself being observed, but she didn't acknowledge it. She carried on eating, her cheeks slowly turning pinker.

Eventually Regina was the one who had to cave.

'Emma,' she sighed.

'Aren't we going to see Henry?' Emma responded, still not looking up from her plate. 'You'd better hurry.'

'Emma, please look at me.'

It was her softest voice, and Emma couldn't refuse it. She swallowed her mouthful of food and finally lifted her eyes. Regina was watching her with an anxious frown between her eyebrows. Even now, she wanted to kiss it away.

'What?' she asked, dropping her fork back onto the plate. Regina's expression never wavered.

'We have to talk about this.'

'There's nothing to talk about,' Emma said, offering her a smile that was so forced it looked painful. 'Come on, Regina. Eat your breakfast – we need to get going.'

'I'm aware of that,' Regina said, not moving.

Emma blinked at her, and just like that she felt her heartbeat quickening, her throat going dry. It was a reflex – it didn't matter that Regina was the one sat across from her. Her body was just used to Killian acting like this.

She glanced towards the door and wondered if she would be able to run there faster than Regina could.

She took a deep, shaky breath. 'You should probably eat, then.'

'Emma.'

Regina still wasn't budging, and Emma could feel the walls starting to close in on her. She tried to swallow.

'What?' she croaked out.

And Regina went to push her once more, but stopped. Emma's face had turned the colour of expired milk.

Recoiling, Regina asked, 'Are you okay?'

Emma nodded far too quickly. Regina pushed her still-full plate to the side and leaned forwards, watching with a plummeting stomach as Emma flinched away from her.

'Emma,' she said softly, wanting to reach out. 'I'm… not going to shout at you. You're safe. I just want you to know that, last night… I don't…'

She had been planning her speech ever since she'd woken up that morning, but now that she was faced with Emma's pasty complexion and eyes that kept glancing towards the door, she realised that her words meant nothing. Emma was already mortified – but now she felt trapped too. She was watching Regina in the same way that caged animals at the zoo watch loud, shouting children as they run by.

Swallowing down all the pleading words that she wanted to say, Regina finally looked away from her. 'I guess you're right. We should get going.'

Emma blinked. 'You haven't eaten anything yet.'

'I'm not hungry,' Regina said, picking up her plate and tossing the contents into the trash. 'Do you still want to come with me to the hospital?'

'...of course I do,' Emma said quietly.

'Okay. Finish your breakfast. I'll be back in five minutes.'

She turned and left the room before Emma could respond.

* * *

When they met in the hall, Regina was slightly calmer. She was wearing a long black coat and towering black heels, and when she saw her, Emma felt something seize at her stomach muscles.

'Ready to go?' Regina asked, dangling her keys from one finger. Emma nodded, straightening her shoulders.

'I was thinking…' she said, pausing to clear her throat. 'I was thinking maybe I should drive? I could drop you off at work and then pick you up again this evening.'

When Regina just stared at her, she shrugged awkwardly.

'Just saves us having to take both of our cars.'

After a pause, Regina asked, 'Is your car safe?'

'Of course it's safe,' Emma snapped. 'It got me all the way here from Boston, didn't it?'

'I suppose that's true,' Regina said, raising her eyebrows. 'And you won't forget to come and get me?'

Emma shot her a venomous look. 'No, Regina. I won't forget.'

Regina's heart thudded when she heard the coldness in Emma's voice. She had come back downstairs ready to apologise for pushing Emma into talking to her – now she was glad that she hadn't managed to say it yet.

'Very well,' Regina said coolly, putting her keys back into her purse. 'I finish work at around 5:30.'

'Fine.'

'And we won't be going to visit Henry tonight because his therapist will be stopping by to see him.'

'The kid has a…?' Emma started to ask, and then stopped herself. That was probably a conversation for another time.

She pulled her keys from the pocket of her red jacket and forced herself to look Regina in the eye. 'Shall we go then?'

She could tell that Regina was gritting her teeth as she gestured towards the door, and Emma couldn't say that she blamed her: as Killian had told her a hundred times before, she was impossible to be around sometimes. She had just shot from panicked to belligerent in thirty seconds flat, and she couldn't blame Regina for probably wanting to smack her head into a wall.

Except she knew that below everything, no matter how much Emma pissed her off, Regina wouldn't do anything like that. Emma had gotten so used to expecting it from Killian that it had become a twisted kind of normality to her, but Regina wasn't that kind of person. Every single thing she had done up until that moment had been to try and make Emma's life easier again – and that included pushing her away the night before.

Emma swallowed, guilt gripping at her stomach like a pair of clawed hands. She opened her mouth to say something.

But then Regina turned back to her and snapped, 'Please do feel free to stand around in my hallway all day long, Miss Swan. It's not like I have somewhere better to be,' and Emma's apology dried up in her throat.

They rode to the hospital together in silence that was punctuated only by Regina's sniffs of disgust at the contents of Emma's car. Any time they turned a corner Regina would grab at the door handle like she was afraid that she was about to tumble onto the road, and eventually Emma found herself resisting the urge to push her out herself.

She had barely brought the bug to a halt in the hospital parking lot before Regina had clambered out, dusting off her coat with a curling upper lip.

'It's not _that_ bad,' Emma muttered, climbing out after her. She didn't say a word to her as they walked through the hospital corridors together, making their way to Henry's room.

Regina entered the room first, then stopped walking so abruptly that Emma slammed into the back of her. She pushed herself away again immediately, her face burning at the sudden contact.

'Regina, what the hell?' she demanded. Regina just kept on staring across the room.

'Where _is he_?' she choked out. Emma looked over at where Henry's bed was, and realised that it was empty.

'Oh,' she said, looking around the room like he could be hiding in some corner. 'Maybe he's gone to the bathroom?'

'Miss Swan, he is _bed-ridden_ ,' Regina said, and she sounded so dangerously close to tears that Emma couldn't help it: she reached out a hand and gently touched Regina's arm.

'Regina, please. I'm sure he's—'

'Mom!'

The small voice came from behind them, and at once Emma snatched her hand back like Regina's skin had turned red hot. She could feel her face turning crimson.

Both women turned to find Henry in the hallway behind them, a nurse at his side. Regina could have wept: it was the first time she'd seen him out of that damned bed in over three weeks.

She strode out of the room and gathered him up in her arms, burying her face in his hair so he couldn't see the relief on her face.

'You're up,' she eventually forced out, pulling away so that she could take her son by the shoulders. She stared down into his grinning face and felt her body fill up with warmth. 'Oh, Henry. You look so much better.'

'I feel better,' he said. 'Doctor Whale said that I should try and go for a walk to see how far I could get, so Nurse Green took me.'

'Is that so?' Regina said, nodding her thanks at the nurse in question. Then she wrapped her arm around her son's shoulders and guided him back into his room. 'And how far did you get?'

'To the garden and back,' Henry said excitedly. 'I really feel much better. Hi Emma!'

'Hey, kid,' Emma replied as they walked past her. She watched as Regina helped him get back into bed, although, she had to be honest, it didn't look like he needed any assistance anymore. She could see a healthy flush in his cheeks, and his thick hair was no longer sticking to his forehead.

She edged towards the bed. 'You look… way better.'

Henry smiled at her. 'I know. It's weird, isn't it? It's like the second you came to town, I stopped being sick.'

Emma grinned back at him, but before she could say anything, she paused: Regina was bent over the bed, tidying the sheets, but out of the corner of her eye Emma could see that her expression had turned dark.

'Weird coincidence,' Emma said, trying to laugh it off. 'Must be those magical powers I haven't told you about.'

Somehow, this only seemed to make things worse. Henry's smiled broadened, but Regina's face turned sourer.

Emma cleared her throat and turned away from them, grabbing a nearby chair and dragging it over to the bedside. She sat down on the opposite side to Regina, who was still straightening out the sheets with her lips pressed together.

Her brown eyes flicked over to look towards Emma, but she was avoiding her gaze once more. Gritting her teeth, Regina finally sat down.

Emma knew that it was her job to make conversation then, but her brain had suddenly been drained of every single thing she could possibly say. She wasn't used to being around kids – certainly not her own – and it would take more than two 15-minute visits to make her feel more comfortable. She wanted to look up at Regina and silently plead for assistance – she knew that, even then, Regina would help her out in a heartbeat. But for some reason, even though she could feel Regina's dark eyes burning into her, she couldn't do it.

Just as she opened her mouth, ready to say… she didn't know what, she was saved by the other person in the room.

'Mom,' Henry piped up, looking over at Regina. 'You remember that Archie is coming to see me today, right?'

'Of course,' Regina said, squeezing his hand. 'I was just telling Miss Swan that before we arrived. Are you sure you don't want us to stop by after he's gone?'

She glanced across the bed as she spoke, but Emma was resolutely looking absolutely anywhere except back at her.

Henry shrugged. 'I guess you can, if you want. But tonight is activity night – I might actually be able to go.'

'I'm sure you will,' Regina smiled at him. 'We won't keep you from that, then. I'm sure Miss Swan and I can manage to not kill each other for one night.'

Henry laughed, but he noticed at once that his other mother wasn't joining in. Emma was looking down at her lap, her fingers tangled together, a faint but utterly forced smile on her face. Henry paused. He glanced over at Regina to check she didn't look like she was about to burst into tears too.

Regina looked back at him and all she could do was offer an apologetic smile.

'Madam Mayor?'

All three of them turned to face the door, where the voice had come from. Doctor Whale was stood there, a chart clutched under one arm. He nodded at Emma, but didn't address her.

'Good morning,' Regina said, not standing up. 'Is there a problem?'

'No problem,' he replied, stepping into the room. 'As I'm sure you can see, Henry's condition keeps on improving. I wondered if you might have a moment to discuss it?'

Regina paused, looking over at Emma once more. Something told her that she shouldn't be a part of that conversation.

'Of course,' Regina said, brushing off her pants. 'Give me five minutes and I'll come and find you.'

'Alright then,' he said, and he walked out the door.

Emma watched him go. When she turned back to the bed, Henry was looking at her.

'Are you going to stay here with me today?' he asked, making her blink.

'I… I don't know,' she said. She glanced across at Regina, ready to ask permission, but when she found two dark eyes watching her patiently, she immediately looked away again. 'I guess so? If you want me to.'

'Is that okay, Mom?' Henry asked Regina the question that Emma was too cowardly to ask herself.

'Of course,' Regina replied, looking pointedly at the woman on the other side of the bed, internally screaming at her to just damn well _look at her_. 'It'll be nice for you two to get to know each other properly.'

Emma smiled then, but only to herself. Her hands were clamped between her knees and the longer she stayed there in that chair, the more her body seemed to curl in on itself.

Regina watched her with a heaviness in her chest that was half pity and half pure irritation. Finally, she stood up.

'I hope your day is okay, Henry,' she said, bending over to kiss her son on his forehead. 'You'll call me if you need anything?'

'Sure,' Henry said, looking up at her.

'And you'll tell Dr Hopper to contact me tonight if he needs to?'

'Of course.'

'Great,' she said, reaching out to press a hand against his cheek. 'Good boy.'

She straightened her coat, then turned to look at Emma. She was only going to remind her to pick her up at 5:30, or to tell her that she should have a good day too – but Emma was still staring down at her hands, her shoulders tensed and her lips pressed firmly together. All at once, Regina snapped.

'Miss Swan,' she demanded, and out of shock more than anything else, Emma finally looked up.

'…yes?'

'A word in the hall, please,' Regina said, and without waiting to see if she was going to follow her, she left the room. She was waiting in the hallway by herself for a full minute before she heard the sound of Emma dragging her feet towards the door.

The moment that Emma had joined her and was looking at her half expectantly and half full of fear, Regina grabbed her by the elbow, tugging her as far away from their son's room as she could.

'Regina,' Emma snapped, trying to yank her arm away. 'What the hell?'

Regina didn't let go, but she stopped pulling her. She turned back to face her with her jaw clenched.

'Listen to me very clearly, Miss Swan,' she said in her lowest voice, and immediately Emma stopped struggling. 'You need to stop this. Right now.'

'Stop what?' Emma asked, her voice quivering.

'This petulance,' Regina said simply, her fingers digging into Emma's elbow. 'Look – last night didn't exactly go as planned for either of us. But I did the _right thing_ by telling you to stop. You may be embarrassed and you may be hurt, but please stop acting like you're the only victim here. I'm just as uncomfortable as you are.'

Emma blinked. 'You're not the one who—'

'Yes, I'm aware of that,' Regina interrupted her, finally releasing her arm. She stood as close to her as possible, her voice quiet and urgent. Emma automatically looked down at her lips, and then she kicked herself for doing so. 'You put yourself out there and now you feel rejected. I know that must be tough. But if you opened your eyes for even _half_ a second, you would notice that I'm not actually rejecting you. I'm still speaking to you because last night I wanted to carry on just as much as you did – and I still want to, even when you're acting like a spoiled brat whose favourite toy just got taken away.'

She watched as Emma recoiled from her words.

'You…' she stammered, taking a step back. Her forehead furrowed. ' _What_?'

There were far too many things for her to process and Regina didn't have enough patience left to watch her try and do it.

'Stop ignoring me,' she said flatly, hitching her purse up onto her shoulder. 'Stop acting like I betrayed you. I am just trying to be a good person by showing you some respect. Maybe you don't recognise it because you've gone without it for so long, but there's the truth: I care about you. I _like_ you. And I just want to make sure you're okay. But I won't keep doing that if you won't even have the courtesy to acknowledge me when I'm in the same room as you. I deserve some kind of respect in return.'

When Emma simply stared at her, her mouth falling slightly open, she finally gave up.

'I have to go to work,' she sighed, glancing down at her watch. As she turned away, Emma tried to grab her arm.

'Wait,' she stammered. 'Regina. I'll drive you.'

'It's a 10 minute walk,' Regina said coolly, shrugging her off. Her heart was pounding. 'I'll see you at 5:30. Please don't forget.'

'I…' Emma started, but Regina was already walking away. 'I won't.'

She hoped that Regina would reply, or even just look back at her, but she kept walking with her hips swaying in a way that told Emma she _knew_ she was still watching her. Her mouth had gone dry, and she was aware that she was getting in everybody's way by just standing gormlessly in the middle of the hallway, but she couldn't move. Not until Regina was gone.

When the mayor finally disappeared through the door at the end of the hall, Emma felt like she could finally breathe again – but she didn't enjoy it. It felt flat. She looked down at her stupid ungainly body and her stupid boots and her stupid shaking hands and she grimaced, hating herself probably more than even her husband had managed to in the past.

She finally understood then why he beat her. Because she ruined _everything_.

* * *

'Mom won't tell me where you got those bruises from,' Henry said, and Emma raised her eyebrows at him.

'That's not true,' she said. 'She told you I fell down.'

'Right,' Henry said pointedly. 'And I'm not stupid.'

Emma narrowed her eyes at him. She felt like she needed to tiptoe around him – partially because he was still sick, but mainly because she owed it to him to at least be nice to him – but it was starting to dawn on her that Henry wasn't exactly a timid child. Tiptoeing wouldn't get her anywhere.

'Did you ever consider that maybe it's none of your business?'

And at once, Henry grinned. 'That doesn't mean I can't ask.'

'Listen, kid,' Emma said, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees. She was sat in the chair that Regina had vacated. 'Just listen to your mom on this. I fell down.'

'You're my mom too.'

'Not technically.'

' _Yes_ technically.'

'Oh my god,' Emma groaned. 'I think I preferred you when you were dying from some mysterious illness.'

'I was never dying,' Henry laughed. 'And besides, I'm better now. Doctor Whale said I get to come home in a couple of days.'

'Yeah,' she replied. 'That's really great news. Are you excited?'

'Of course. It's kind of boring in here – the other kids all share rooms but because they weren't sure if I was contagious or not they made me stay by myself.'

'Yeah. I can imagine that must have sucked,' Emma said gently. 'At least your mom got to come and see you though.'

'Not always,' Henry said, reaching up to scratch his nose. 'When I was really sick, there were a few days when they wouldn't let her in either.'

'Jesus,' Emma blinked. 'That sounds pretty severe. You must be glad that's over.'

She paused, then added, 'Even if no one knows what the hell was wrong with you in the first place.'

Henry shrugged like this was only a minor detail. 'Whatever it was, it went away as soon as you showed up.'

'I think that's just a coincidence, kid.'

'I know you do,' Henry said, no trace of a joke in his voice. 'But it's true. I don't expect you to get it, though.'

Emma narrowed her eyes. 'Okay. I'll bite – get what? What did I do?'

But Henry just smiled at her.

'I'm not sure you're ready for that yet,' he said, and he glanced to his left, where his enormous storybook was sitting on the nightstand. 'I'll tell you some other time.'

'Might be too late by then,' Emma prompted. 'Your mom might have kicked me out before you can spill this grand secret.'

Henry laughed so loudly then that Emma jumped in her seat.

'My mom's not going to kick you _out_ ,' he said, shaking his head. 'Are you crazy?'

'Henry,' Emma sighed. 'Come on. It's her house, and we both know I'm just crashing there because she's lonely without you. I'm happy to keep her company, but I'm not going to intrude on both of your lives once you're better again. I'll be gone before you get out of here.'

She watched as his face crumpled. 'But why?'

'Because… it's not my home.'

'Where is yours?'

'Back in Boston,' she said, hesitating before she added, 'But I'm not sure I'm going back there.'

'Don't you have family there?'

'Not really, kid,' she sighed. She had told him that she was married the first time she'd come to the hospital with Regina, but he'd been so sick then that she wasn't sure he remembered that. 'My… husband is there. But I don't think I'm going to see him again.'

'How come?'

'It's kind of complicated. Maybe your mom wouldn't want me to tell you.'

Henry just looked at her, and they both knew he was going to get it out of her anyway. She rolled her eyes.

'We've just had some problems, and I… I think I need a clean break.'

'You don't love him?'

'Jesus, you're blunt,' Emma said. Then she sighed. 'I do love him.'

'But you don't want to stay with him?'

'It's… grown up stuff. And to be honest, I don't really know what I want to do. I'm a bit confused about it all.'

Henry pondered this for a moment, before his face brightened once more. 'You should definitely stay with us then. Until you've figured it out.'

Emma laughed, reaching out to cuff his chin. 'It's very sweet of you to offer up your house to me, kid, but I'm not sure Regina will be thrilled by that idea.'

'Stop acting like you think she doesn't like you,' Henry rolled his eyes. 'It's obvious she does.'

Emma raised one eyebrow. 'Are you _sure_ about that?'

'I am,' Henry said plainly. 'She's only hostile because she likes arguing with people. But she's letting you stay, so that means something – if she didn't like you, she would have kicked you out _way_ before now.'

'I've only been here a couple of days, kid.'

'Trust me,' Henry said seriously. 'If she didn't like you, you wouldn't have lasted one.'

Emma wanted to laugh, but she could see in his hazel eyes that he was being serious: Regina obviously didn't take to very many people and, as she'd repeatedly told Emma, she didn't do things because she felt like she had to. So no matter how much Emma felt like she must only be there because Regina felt sorry for her, it probably wasn't the case.

She thought back to the night before and groaned, her heart thumping against her ribs.

'Do you like staying with her?' Henry asked, making her jump.

'Sure,' she said as casually as she could manage. 'You have a great house and your mom is… well. She's nice, in her own way.'

Henry grinned. 'So you like her too.'

Emma hesitated, trying to work out whether he did mean just as friends or whether he was using the ' _like_ like' intonation that 10 years olds loved so much.

'I… do,' she admitted, and when he didn't squeal out loud, she realised he must have meant the former. 'She's been really good to me. Too good, really. I haven't exactly deserved any of this.'

As she said the words, she realised just how true they were. She had been a complete asshole to Regina that morning, knowing the whole time that Regina didn't deserve it. Regina _had_ been doing the right thing by stopping them kissing the night before, and Emma had acted like a teenager. She hadn't even thanked her. She'd just sulked and made Regina feel even guiltier than she already must have done.

Emma groaned to herself. _God, you can be such a douchebag sometimes_ _._

'You should ask her if you can stay longer,' Henry said. 'I know she'll say yes.'

Emma's heart thumped once more.

'Maybe,' she said.

* * *

Emma stayed with Henry for the rest of the day, eating his terrible hospital lunch with him and playing card games on the bed. Eventually it was three o'clock and a tall, red-haired man with glasses and an umbrella appeared in the doorway. Emma took it as her cue to leave.

As Doctor Hopper waited in the hall, Emma stood up and shrugged her jacket back on.

'Today's been fun, kid,' she said, tugging her long hair out from under the collar. 'I hope we can do it again some time.'

'Me too,' Henry said, gathering the cards back up. 'Maybe tomorrow?'

'I'll ask your mom,' she said. 'It depends on… some stuff.'

She wasn't sure how she was meant to leave him. Did they know each other well enough to hug yet? God, she was so fucking ill-versed when it came to kids – or maybe just with people in general.

But Henry made the decision for her. He reached out over the side of the bed and wrapped his arms tightly around her waist, startling her. It took a moment before she registered that she was meant to hug him back.

She gave him a squeeze in return, putting one hand on the back of his head. He was surprisingly strong.

'I should get going,' she said, ruffling his hair. 'Are you sure you're going to be okay on your own tonight?'

'Sure,' he said, letting go of her. 'I'll see you tomorrow though, right?'

'Right,' Emma said. Even if she couldn't spend the whole day with him again because Regina had finally told her to go, she wouldn't leave without saying goodbye to him.

But just the thought of that happening made her feel sick. All day long the guilt of how she'd treated Regina that morning had been bubbling up inside her like she was heating up oil, but now it was almost unbearable. She needed to do something for Regina – something to show her that she was actually sorry for being such a dick all morning.

She paused.

'Hey, kid,' she said slowly. 'Weird question, but… what's your mom's favourite food?'

Henry just looked at her for a moment, and then his face split into a grin.

'If you asked her, she would say poached salmon,' he said. 'But it's lasagne.'

'You're sure?'

'Positive.'

Emma nodded, trying to work out how much time she had left before she had to go and pick Regina up.

'Should be doable,' she said, reaching out to tousle her son's hair once more. 'Thanks, kid. I owe you one.'

'No problem. See you tomorrow, Emma.'

'See you, Henry.'

She hurried out the door, nodding goodbye to Dr Hopper as she passed him, frantically trying to remember the only lasagne recipe that she'd ever made.

* * *

Even though Regina had given her the spare key to her house and told her to just keep it for now, Emma always felt like a burglar when she let herself in. Struggling under the weight of her grocery bags, Emma shouldered the door open and stepped into the cool hallway, toeing her boots off before she could track any dirt into the house.

She went into the kitchen and began to unpack the groceries, keeping one eye on the clock: it was nearly 4 o'clock. She was picking Regina up from work at 5:30, which meant that she needed to leave at 5:20. If she put the lasagne in the oven at 5, it would almost be ready by the time they got back home again.

She let these calculations tick around in her head as she began to lay the ingredients out. _Get it in the oven at 5 so she can eat as soon as you get home_ – Emma repeated the words to herself over and over again so she wouldn't forget. She started to look through the many cupboards for a lasagne dish.

She wondered if Regina would mind her poking around like this. No matter how many times Regina had snapped at her for being so stupid, Emma couldn't shake the thought that her presence in that big, white house was completely and utterly unwanted.

 _Stop that_ , she told herself sharply. She shook her head. _You've got to stop thinking shit like this_. Because the same old voice was ringing in her ears, and it was going to take a lot more than three days away from it for her to learn how to ignore it.

She found a large glass dish at the back of the cabinet and pulled it out, placing it on the counter. She knew that Regina was going to appreciate this – she could somehow already picture the look of quiet surprise on her face – but it didn't stop her from feeling sick with nerves.

Cooking back at home was an ordeal that she suffered through every single day, waiting to see if the food was actually going to be eaten that evening or simply thrown into the trash – or, on _really_ good days, against the kitchen wall. Here, she knew she was safe – she knew that Regina would enjoy it. But, God, her hands wouldn't stop shaking. It made chopping the onions damn near impossible.

But eventually the lasagne was finished and ready to go into the oven. Emma looked back up at the clock: it was 4:45. She felt a surge of pride when she realised that she was ahead of schedule.

She finished washing the cutting board that she'd been using and looked around at the clean kitchen. The oven was heating up and the utensils were drying in the rack. She paused.

'Salad,' she said out loud, wiping her hands on a dishtowel. She nodded, confirming that she had made a good decision, then looked down at herself. There were flecks of tomato sauce on her black sweater and, although they were barely visible, she grimaced. Regina deserved better than that.

'Salad, then get changed,' she muttered. She glanced at the clock once more to check that she had enough time and felt another nervous flutter in her stomach.

She walked over to the fridge and pulled the door open. Her head was buried inside when the doorbell rang.

Emma stood upright and frowned. She had no idea what the etiquette was here – did she just go ahead and answer somebody else's door, or was she supposed to ignore it? What if it was a package, or Regina herself? She could have left work early.

Emma swallowed, closing the fridge. The doorbell rang again.

She walked into the hall, her socks sliding on the wood floor. She could see a dark figure through the door, pixelated by the blurred glass. She wiped her hands on the front of her jeans.

Emma mentally gathered her excuses, just in case the person waiting there asked what the hell she was doing in the mayor's house, and forced herself to walk forward. She could tell from the silhouette that it wasn't Regina.

She reached the door and pulled it open. Everything went very, very still.

Her throat felt like sandpaper as she said, 'Killian.'

Her husband looked back at her. His arms were crossed over his chest, and his face was expressionless.

'Hello, Emma.'


	8. Chapter 8

**** 'What are you doing here?'

Emma's voice cracked midway through the sentence. She was clinging onto the door handle like it was the only thing that could keep her standing, and the metal was already beginning to cut into her palm. Killian just looked at her, the cold expression on his face never flickering for a second. He glanced behind her at the vast expanse of empty house.

'Aren't you going to invite me in?' he asked. Emma blinked, pulling the door slightly closed. Her husband's eyes narrowed.

'I… I don't…' Emma stammered out. Something had closed off in her brain and she couldn't remember what she was supposed to do next. Killian's blue eyes were somehow dark and unreadable, and the absolute expressionlessness of his face scared her more than anything else he had ever done. He was looking at her like they'd only just met. 'I don't think that's…'

He didn't wait for her to finish. He took a step forwards and, as she flinched, he pushed past her, walking into the house like it was suddenly his.

Emma stayed in the doorway, staring out at the now vacant porch. She felt smaller than she had done two minutes ago. A twisting pain in her stomach made her want to double over.

She couldn't breathe. There was no air left in the whole damn town.

'Don't you want to shut the door?'

She closed her eyes. The pressure of the door handle against her palm was beginning to sting.

She swallowed, stepping back into the hallway. She closed the door and the house went dark.

When she forced herself to turn around, Killian wasn't looking at her. He was gazing around him, his expression curious, taking in the white walls and the clean floors and the enormous spiral staircase. He was wearing black jeans and his favourite leather jacket and his dark hair was falling into his eyes. His eyelashes rimmed his eyes so closely that he always looked like he was wearing eyeliner.

Emma pulled the sleeves of her black sweater down over her hands, forcing herself to take a breath.

'What are you doing here, Killian?' she repeated, her voice wisping through the air like steam. Killian shrugged, his necklaces clinking together.

'I missed you,' he said, continuing to examine his surroundings. 'Didn't you miss me?'

Emma's throat felt like it was closing up. 'I…'

'This is a great house,' he interrupted, beginning to walk towards the living room. He stuck his head through the door and whistled. 'Wow. We should get a place like this.'

Certain that she was going to be sick, Emma whispered, 'It's… it's nice.'

'It's more than just _nice_ , Emma. Are you even looking?' he asked, leaving the living room and starting to walk towards Regina's office.

'Yes, I am… it's amazing.'

Killian just snorted, pushing open the den door. The sight of him in the doorway to a room that reminded her so intrinsically of Regina made Emma's chest tighten, and she nearly reached out to stop him.

He walked inside, and immediately Emma saw that he'd brought some dirt in. It was stuck in the carpet. She let out a whimper.

'I tell you what,' Killian said. He nodded at the room like it met his approval, then left again, not closing the door behind him. 'I can see why you decided to stay here. I probably would too.'

He walked across the hall, pushing straight past her, and found the kitchen door. He was inside the room with three long strides.

Emma looked towards the front door. She could run – she knew that. She would be able to reach Regina's office long before Killian had managed to find her again. The mere thought of Regina sat on the other side of the town, her long legs crossed under her desk and her pillowy lips pressed together in thought, made the lump in her throat subside just slightly. She knew with absolute certainty that if she ran to Regina then, she would be safe.

But Regina wouldn't be.

Emma turned towards the kitchen, swallowing back tears, and pushed open the door. Killian was leaning against the counter, a small silver flask in his hand. He didn't look up as she entered the room.

Emma walked through the room and positioned herself so that she was behind the island. At least if that was sitting between them, she wasn't in danger. Not yet.

She took a breath. 'How did you find me?'

He looked up at her then, his eyes vacant.

'You sound disappointed,' he said. His left arm was resting on the counter, his prosthetic hand dangling over the edge. 'You weren't expecting me to show up then, I take it?'

Emma forced herself to straighten her shoulders. 'Not exactly.'

'Well. That's a pity,' Killian sighed dramatically, taking another swig of rum. 'Luckily though, I'm full of surprises.'

A familiar chill crept up Emma's spine.

'How did you find me?' she repeated, because she didn't know what else there was to say.

Raising his flask back to his lips, he said, 'You were too eager to get away.'

'Sorry?'

'You didn't check your car,' he said flatly. 'I honestly thought you were smarter than that.'

The air was knocked from Emma's lungs so abruptly that she felt like she'd been punched. 'My… my car?'

'How do you think I knew when you were sneaking out to be the bloody blonde bail bondsman?'

_Person_ , Emma thought automatically, but she didn't say it.

'You put a _tracker_ in my car?'

'Of course I did!' he barked, his voice going from eerily calm to deafening in the snap of a finger, and at once Emma shut her mouth. 'I always knew I had a reason not to trust you, and when you started going off to work again when I had _specifically_ asked you not to, all you did was prove it. The second you thought I wasn't paying attention, you started sneaking around behind my back.'

Emma swallowed. 'I was just trying to—'

'I don't give a _shit_ what you were trying to do,' Killian said, slamming the flask back onto the counter. His lips curled into a cruel smile when Emma winced. 'Stop acting like the damn victim, Emma. I asked you to do _one_ thing for me back then – I asked you to stop working, because I didn't want you to get hurt. Then the moment my back was turned, you betrayed me. And now here we are, in the exact same situation. I asked you not to leave me, and you did exactly that.'

Everything in Emma's head was a mess. She could hear the pain in Killian's voice, and the things he was saying… they weren't _lies_. She knew that she must have hurt him when he got home from work and found out that she'd just gone.

But now she could hear Regina's voice too, telling her that she deserved better than a man who manipulated her and guilted her into loving him. The bruises on her face, which up until then had started to feeling like they were healing, had begun to throb again, like her whole body was recoiling against the man who had put them there.

She could smell his cologne, and it wasn't as bewitching as it had once been.

'I needed to get away, Killian,' she said. Her eyes were fixed on the island between them, but she still saw him pause.

'And why was that?' His voice had turned soft again. The frantic back and forth was making Emma feel physically sick. 'Come on, Emma. I know we had some problems, but things weren't _that_ bad. Were they?'

Emma groaned. She reached out for the edge of the counter, leaning her whole weight against it.

'I wasn't happy.'

Killian laughed softly. 'It's not just about how you feel, love. What about me?'

In the back of her mind, Emma could feel a fire starting to burn. It was one that once would have made her scream at him, telling him to get the hell out of that house and never come back. It made her fists clench.

But she had become adept at pouring water over it, so she just shook her head.

'Emma,' Killian said quietly. 'Look at me.'

As always, she did as she was told. He was watching her with narrowed eyes, his arms crossed over his chest. He waited for her to speak.

Then Emma glanced up. The kitchen clock was just above his head, and its hands were already past five.

Something grabbed at her stomach and refused to let go. _Regina_.

Killian raised his eyebrows. 'Well?'

Emma glanced across at the oven that was already hot, and at the dish of cold lasagne that was meant to be inside it.

At once, Killian growled, 'What's the matter with you?'

'Nothing's the _matter_ with me,' Emma said quietly, still clutching onto the counter. Regina was expecting her to pick her up in 20 minutes. When she didn't show up… _oh, god_.

'Then why won't you look at me?'

Regina would make her own way home eventually. She would get caught in this too.

Emma shuddered.

'I'm just a bit… confused,' she said, forcing herself to meet his gaze. 'I wasn't expecting to see you.'

'What, today?' he replied at once. 'Or ever again?'

Taking a deep breath, Emma responded, 'I don't know. I hadn't really thought about it.'

'Well, that's a surprise,' Killian said, his eyes flashing. 'Emma _not_ thinking about something for once. That makes a nice change.'

'Killian, please,' Emma said, and the wobble in her voice made her feel sick. 'We should just… We should sit down and try to talk.'

'You can sit if you want. I'm fine standing.'

Emma glanced at the clock again. It seemed to be speeding up.

'Do you want to go for a drink?'

Something flashed across her husband's face then. It looked like victory. 'No.'

'We could—'

'No,' he repeated, crossing his arms. 'I'm fine where I am.'

'Okay,' she said, her stomach plummeting. Her whole body felt heavy and bowed, like a crumpled ball of paper that would never be flattened out completely smooth again. 'We can… we can talk here.'

'Now, that's an interesting point,' he said, looking around him at the vast kitchen. 'Where _is_ here, Emma? What the hell is this place?'

'It's… a friend's house.'

'Since when have you had friends in Maine?'

Emma swallowed. 'Since recently.'

'Oh, _another_ secret,' Killian said, and to Emma's horror, he pushed himself off of the counter and started to walk towards the middle of the room. Even with a marble island between them, she automatically took a step backwards. 'How very mysterious you've become.'

'It's not a secret,' Emma said. 'The details just aren't that important.'

He laughed shortly. 'It's funny how you think that I won't be able to get it out of you.'

Emma's entire body went cold. 'Please don't say things like that.'

'Like what?' he said. He had reached the opposite side of the island and this close, Emma could see that there were dark circles under his eyes. 'You're my wife, Emma. I deserve to know where you've gone when you run off without saying a word. Were you even planning on coming back?'

'I don't know,' Emma whispered. It was getting harder to think. 'I didn't plan to leave. I just… did.'

'To come here,' Killian said, his eyes sharp and cold and never leaving her face. 'To this strange town in the middle of nowhere, to a house with no one in it.'

A burst of air left Emma then. For a second, she felt relieved: he didn't know about Regina. He had no idea who lived there and, if she could get him out of the house before Regina managed to make her way back home again, she would at least be able to keep her safe.

And as if he had read her mind, Killian laughed. It was a harsh sound that felt like it could make Emma's bones splinter.

'You need to stop trying to hide things from me, Emma,' he said quietly, relishing the way that she shuddered. 'You know I'll always find out. Just like I found you.'

A tiny whimper slipped from Emma's lips.

'I'm not hiding anything.'

He smiled.

'So who was the woman I saw in the window last night?'

'I…' Emma stammered, gripping onto the counter so tightly that she heard her knuckles crack. 'What?'

'Last night,' Killian said, calmly running a hand over the marble counter like they were discussing the weather. 'I know you saw me. You were stood in the window for some time.'

'But, you... Where did you get that car from?' she choked out.

Killian snorted. 'I rented it. I'm not stupid enough to follow my runaway wife in a car that she'd recognise. Then again, the runaway wife in question was dumb enough to take her bright yellow bug with a tracker in it, so maybe she wouldn't even have noticed.'

Emma couldn't respond – she had no idea how to. He'd been outside the house for what had felt like hours, watching her from behind blackened windows. And Regina – fuck. He had seen her too.

He'd probably been staying at Granny's, barely a mile away, when she and Regina had been curled up in the same bed, their mouths pressed fiercely together and their hands buried in each other's hair.

When his wife stayed silent, Killian raised his eyebrows. 'So? Are you going to tell me?'

'Tell you what?' Emma whispered.

'Who the woman was,' Killian said. 'Whose house is this?'

It didn't matter what Emma said then – whatever answer she gave, it would be wrong. Killian was too composed, too quiet, and his eyes were flashing as he watched her.

Emma reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, and they both noticed that she was trembling. She took a deep breath.

'I'm not telling you.'

She had hoped that her words would come out stronger, but her voice was barely a murmur. She saw Killian's nostrils flare, his right hand clenching around the edge of the countertop.

Then he nodded.

'Come here, Emma.'

At once, Emma felt ice creeping through her blood. 'Why?'

'Because I asked you to,' he responded, gesturing with one finger. 'Come here.'

'I…' Emma stammered, digging her nails into the palms of her hands. 'I'm fine here.'

To her surprise, Killian shrugged. He took his hands off of the counter.

'Fair enough.'

And then he was walking around the island, making his way towards her. His strides were long and leisurely, but his eyes never once left hers. Emma took a step backwards and landed against the wall with a thud.

'Killian…'

'You said you're fine there,' he said, reaching her side of the kitchen. He paused to examine a painting on the wall. 'I don't mind coming to you.'

She pressed her back more firmly against the wall, her hands hiding in her sleeves. The panic that was bubbling up inside her was smothering – it was cutting off the oxygen to her brain and suddenly there were white spots dancing in her vision, flashing up like a warning.

When Killian eventually planted himself in front of her, he felt so much taller than she remembered. She squeezed her eyes shut, the smell of him filling her nose. The room was tilting around her. She was sure she was going to be sick.

'Emma,' he said, his voice low. She opened her eyes but kept her gaze downwards. He was inches away, pushing her as far into the wall as he could without touching her. Those awful necklaces dangled in front of her face.

She had never wanted to cry so badly before in her entire life.

'Emma. Look at me.'

And again, she disobeyed him. She knew she would regret it, but her exhaustion had finally overcome her and the effort of lifting her head was just far, far too much.

She felt a hand under her chin. She whimpered.

The night before, Regina had touched her there. She had pressed her finger and thumb gently below Emma's chin and had tilted her face upwards, bringing her lips up to meet her own. Everything about it had been soft, sending vibrations through Emma's muscles until her fingers had started to tingle.

This was harsher. Killian squeezed her chin in his hand and tugged it upwards, ignoring her wince of pain. When she was looking up at him, he didn't let go.

Emma felt her stomach turn over. She could smell the rum now.

'Tell me whose house this is,' he said quietly. His voice sounded like thunder rumbling in the distance.

'I already told you,' Emma whispered. 'It's just a friend's.'

'I see,' Killian said. He wasn't blinking. 'And this _friend_ … Does she want you here?'

'Yes. She does.'

'Why?'

'Why?' Emma repeated, flustered. 'I don't know. Because I needed a place to crash and she... she wanted to help.'

Killian laughed, and it was the cruellest sound she'd ever heard. 'Or because you forced your way into her home and she hasn't been able to tell you to leave yet.'

Emma swallowed. 'That's not true.'

'Please,' Killian scoffed. 'You think she took you in of her own choice? Don't be so fucking stupid, Emma. You manipulated her. You're not being fair to her by hanging around.'

The words crackled inside her head like static. 'That's… that's not what happened. She offered to let me stay – I didn't ask.'

'Jesus,' Killian squeezed her chin more firmly. 'You need to learn to _listen_ to people. Why does nothing ever seem to make it past this thick skull of yours? She didn't offer. She doesn't want you here. Where is she now, eh? Trying to get as far away from you as possible, it seems.'

Emma wanted to shake her head, but his grip held it in place.

'She's my friend,' she whispered. 'She just wants to help me.'

'And why does she think that you need help?' Killian asked, gritting his teeth. 'What have you told her?'

Emma opened her mouth, but everything was stuck. Killian's hold on her jaw was vice-like and somehow he was even closer to her now, looking down at her along the length of his nose. She shook her head.

'Nothing.'

'What have you told her about me?'

'Killian, she saw the bruises,' Emma blurted out, trying to force herself back into the solid wall. 'I didn't have to tell her anything.'

'What _bruises_?' he snapped, suddenly releasing her chin and reaching further up, gripping the lower half of her face with his entire hand. ' _These_? You're complaining about a few scratches? Jesus, Emma – you really think you've got it bad? Some of us have actually suffered real injuries and don't complain about them half as much as you do.'

He waved his prosthetic hand in her face as he spoke, and Emma grimaced. His fingers were pressed roughly over her mouth and she couldn't have responded even if she'd wanted to.

But then he abruptly released her, taking half a step backwards and leaving her gasping.

'Why did you leave?'

Emma pressed her hand against her cheek, looking up at him in disbelief.

'Killian.'

'Tell me,' he snapped. 'Now.'

'Because… I wasn't happy. I was scared of you.'

'Why?' he demanded. 'What's there to be scared of?'

Frustration twisted in Emma's stomach like a blade and she let out a dismayed groan.

'You _beat_ me, Killian,' she said, and for a moment, for the first time since they'd gotten married, he looked shocked. 'You hurt me every single day, and I needed to get away from you.'

'Why?' he said. 'To find another man? Trust me, Emma. Any other guy you go near will want to hit you too – you bring it out in people. I may have hurt you once or twice but it was always an accident. You run off and find another man to whore around with and he'll kill you, mark my words. He'll wring that pretty little neck of yours, and he'll enjoy it.'

'I didn't come here to find another husband,' Emma snapped, clenching her hands into fists. 'I came here to get away from the one I already have.'

'The one you have _loves you_.'

' _Does he_?' Emma asked, her voice suddenly high-pitched and verging on hysterical. 'Are you sure?'

'How can you even ask that?' Killian asked, his voice gentle again, and he reached out to touch her cheek. It was still red from where he'd grabbed hold of her only moments before and when Emma flinched, turning her face away from him, his jaw hardened.

'Don't pull away from me.'

'Killian,' Emma choked out, looking up at the ceiling. Her eyes were glassy and her hands were trembling by her sides but she forced herself to say it. 'Please. I'm so tired. It took all the strength I had to finally walk out the door and I thought I'd actually gotten away. Why couldn't you just let me go? If I'm such a bad wife that you have to beat me into submission then why couldn't you just leave me alone?'

Killian's face fell completely flat. It was like staring at a mosaic.

'Because you're mine, Emma,' he said, his jaw clenched into an angry line. 'You don't get to decide when it's time for me to say goodbye to you.'

'I'm not yours,' Emma said, her voice shaking. 'I don't want to be anymore.'

'That isn't your choice,' Killian snapped. 'You need to come home with me.'

'I'm… not coming home.'

There was a pause.

'Don't be so fucking stupid,' he said coldly. 'Of course you are. Go and get your things.'

Emma didn't move. Her insides were coiled up like a snake and she couldn't breathe, but she forced herself to stay still.

Killian waited for a moment, but it was a moment too long for him. The second he realised that Emma wasn't going to follow him, he reached out and took hold of her arm, tugging her across the kitchen. He managed to drag her two steps before she pulled herself free.

' _No_ ,' she snapped, but he grabbed her again at once, his fingers digging more tightly into her wrist. He pulled her across the kitchen, ignoring her when she tripped, and reached out for the door. Emma tore her arm free, falling back a few steps, and pressed herself against the counter.

She was breathing heavily and her face was a deathly white colour. Killian turned to look at her, his dark hair a mess and his own cheeks flushed with rage.

'You're really going to do this?' he muttered.

'I'm staying here,' Emma said, trying to sound firm.

Killian took another step towards her. His upper lip was curling.

'You're sure about that?' he asked. 'You're done with me?'

Emma paused, drawing in whatever courage she had left. He was stood over her, bearing down on her like a storm, and she forced herself to say the most terrifying word of all.

'Yes.'

And Killian laughed. It sounded like glass shattering.

'Oh, Emma,' he said, shaking his head. His hand suddenly shot out, slapping against the side of her face with a dull crack _._ Emma staggered to one side, colliding with the counter. She tried to catch her breath as he edged closer to her.

'You're never going to be done with me,' Killian said, his voice low. He reached out for her.

* * *

Regina stared out of the window with gritted teeth. From her position, she could see Main Street and the City Hall parking lot. She would be able to see Emma's horrid yellow bug as soon as it arrived.

But it was 5:45 and so far there was no sign of it, and with every passing second Regina felt herself growing more annoyed. She had reminded Emma multiple times of when she needed picking up, and Emma had been offended that she had felt the need to repeat herself even once. And yet, here they were – Emma was late, as Regina had known she would be, and she hadn't even had the courtesy to call.

Regina picked up her cell and dialled her home number for the third time, waiting for Emma to pick up. The first time that it had rung out, she had told herself that that probably meant Emma was driving to City Hall right then. 15 minutes later, when there was still no answer, she no longer felt quite as confident.

She gripped the phone tightly in her hand and ended the call. _For god's sake_ , she thought to herself as she tossed it back onto the desk. _The woman is a child_.

She could imagine Emma sitting at home, in _her_ kitchen, staring resolutely at the clock on the wall and enjoying the fact that Regina would be waiting for her to come and get her. Regina knew that she'd upset her when she'd pushed her away the night before, but she thought when she'd spoken to Emma about it at the hospital that morning, a flash of guilt had crossed over Emma's face. She had reached out for Regina as she'd left. It seemed odd that she had gone back to punishing her again now.

Regina looked at the clock and groaned. She couldn't wait forever. Maybe she should just walk home.

She picked up the phone and called again. There was no answer.

* * *

 Her shoes pinched at her feet for the entire walk. Hitching her purse up onto her shoulder, Regina gritted her teeth and turned the corner onto Mifflin Street. She'd been walking for nearly 40 minutes and for the first time in her life, she cursed herself for not making that stupid damn town even smaller.

Her house was at the other end of the street. She wished it closer with every shred of energy she had.

Emma still hadn't called her back, and she hadn't seen the flash of her yellow car passing her by on the walk home, which could only mean one of two things: either Emma had decided not to come and get her, just to spite her, or she wasn't there anymore. She might have left. She might not have said goodbye.

Regina swallowed, walking a bit faster. The thought was simultaneously heartbreaking and infuriating.

She had tried to be _good_. God knows that she'd wanted to keep kissing Emma – she would have carried on all night, tearing off her clothes and leaving them in a tangled heap on the floor. She would have pinned Emma into that mattress and kissed her until her lips were sore, then she would have moved down her body – down, down, from her mouth to her throat to the throbbing core between her legs – and she wouldn't have stopped until Emma had literally begged her to. But instead Regina had pushed her away and she'd told her that they needed to take it slower, and this was what she got: Emma hating her for it.

She swallowed, reaching the halfway point of the street. She could see her house in the distance and, despite what else it would mean, she wished that she would find Emma inside it.

Because what if Emma had left? What if she'd finally decided that enough was enough, and anything was better than staying here with her? She could be on her way back to Boston now, her stupid yellow car trundling down the road like a child's toy, and Regina could never see or hear from her again.

If Emma left, Regina knew that she wasn't supposed to follow her. This could be it, simply because Regina didn't have a clue when to shut her mouth and stop making everything worse.

Her stomach kept on plummeting. No matter how infuriating she was, the thought of never seeing Emma again was unbearable. Even if they didn't end up together, Regina couldn't imagine just letting her go back to her husband and never thinking of her again. She would be scared for her every day for the rest of her life.

And Henry. Henry would have been abandoned by her all over again. No ten-year-old could possibly be expected to deal with that.

Her house was getting closer and the sky was getting darker. Regina took a deep breath and walked the final few steps.

When she saw Emma's car on the drive, she nearly screamed. All her worry disappeared into the air like smoke, replaced by absolute, unfathomable rage. She had just _left_ her. It was nearly an hour after Emma was supposed to come and get her and here she was, settled down in her house like she owned it, probably waiting for her with her feet up and a smug smile on her face. _What's for dinner, Regina?_

Regina gritted her teeth, stomping up the path with her heart pounding so furiously that she wasn't entirely sure that it was going to stay in her chest. The lights were off in the house but Regina was blazing, her annoyance radiating from her like a fire. She threw open the front door and hoped that when it slammed against the wall, Emma jumped.

But as soon as she was one step inside, something didn't feel right. The air was heavy. Regina halted on the threshold, her hand hovering in mid-air like she was reaching out for something.

God, the house was so quiet.

She swallowed and took a step into the hall, her eyes scanning her surroundings. Her office door was open, and she was sure that she had closed it when she'd left that morning.

She turned back and quietly shut the front door, the clatter of her heels on the wood floor sounding inexplicably threatening. She placed her purse on the console and walked further into the house with her keys still clutched in one hand.

She saw a flash of movement to her right and turned to face it, her jaw set in a hard and unforgiving line.

It was Emma. She was sitting on the couch in the living room, silently watching her.

Regina narrowed her eyes, her anger immediately bubbling back up again.

'Emma?' she asked, her voice low. And, god, a faint smile flickered over Emma's face, like she was actually glad to see her. It made Regina stop in her tracks, her thundering pulse slowing down.

She took a step closer. The living room was dark, but she could see all too clearly that something was wrong. Emma's knees were pressed together and her back was straight, and she looked so utterly uncomfortable that it made Regina's stomach hurt.

Her face looked pale, too. Regina frowned.

She took another step towards the living room, and then she finally saw it. There was a fresh bruise below Emma's left eye, and her lip was split on the opposite side.

Regina wanted to gasp and rush towards her, demanding to know what had happened to her. But she knew. She had felt it in the air from the moment that she'd opened the front door.

She stopped in her tracks and, sure enough, a man appeared from around the corner. He was tall and had dark hair and dark clothes, and in the dim light it looked like he was wearing eyeliner.

He stood in front of Regina and smiled at her, his eyes glossy and drunk and his upper lip curling into a sneer.

'So,' he said, his voiced tinged with a fading accent. Regina glanced down and saw the fake hand poking out from beneath a leather sleeve. 'You must be Emma's new "friend".'


	9. Chapter 9

Regina didn't say anything for a moment. She desperately wanted to look over at Emma and check that she was okay, but something told her that was a bad idea.

Instead she raised her eyebrows, forcing herself to look Killian directly in the eye. 'And you must be Emma's husband.'

He smiled, and it was a grin so lecherous it made her want to vomit. 'That would be correct. Killian Jones.'

'What a pleasure,' Regina said, turning away momentarily to throw her keys onto the cabinet next to her purse. _Jones_. No wonder Emma never corrected her when she called her Swan. 'I've been wanting to put a face to the bruises for quite some time.'

She saw both Killian and Emma stiffen out of the corner of her eye.

'Excuse me?' Killian snapped. Regina almost laughed: she knew that she was meant to be afraid. She'd seen what he did to women – especially women who disobeyed him – and she knew that he wouldn't hesitate in beating her into the floorboards. But her fury was overpowering her, and beneath it all she felt an odd sense of calm. He wouldn't hurt her – he couldn't. He could only hurt people who actually wanted his approval.

'Sorry,' she said calmly, turning back to face him. She crossed her hands over in front of her, plastering a cool smile onto her face. 'Killian. I've heard so many wonderful things about you.'

He narrowed his eyes at her. Behind him, Emma was cringing, her body rigid as a dried twig.

'I don't know your name.'

Regina blinked. 'Well, why would you? You're only in my house. There's no need to wait to be invited in by the host.'

The flash of surprise that shot across his face was almost worth the look of utter hatred that followed. 'Who the hell _are_ you?'

'My name is Regina Mills,' she replied, walking into the room and snapping the lights on. Killian was stood just beyond the doorway, and she didn't wait for him to move. Her eyes locked with Emma's for a moment as she pushed past him. 'And since this is _my_ house, I think maybe I should be the one to ask the questions.'

She walked towards the centre of the room, deliberately positioning herself between Killian and his wife. Killian glanced over at Emma, then back to Regina, looking her up and down with so much disgust that it seemed to melt from his pores.

'I have nothing to say to you,' he replied, and Regina just shrugged.

'Very well,' she said. 'Then you may leave.'

'I'm not going anywhere.'

'Well,' Regina sighed like this was the biggest inconvenience to have ever landed on her doorstep. 'Then we find ourselves at a bit of an impasse.'

'Excuse me?'

'I have nothing to say to you either,' Regina said, and even though she was a good half-foot shorter than Killian, she seemed to tower over him. 'I try to avoid spending too much time with people who beat their wives for sport, you see. But if you really want to be here, then I suppose we need to work through that. Maybe you could start by telling me what the hell your problem is.'

' _My_ problem?' Killian spat, glaring across at his wife. 'Look, love – this has got nothing to do with you. Just stay out of it.'

'Emma is a guest in my house,' Regina replied, sounding far calmer than she felt. 'And she is my friend. It has everything to do with me.'

Emma felt her heart momentarily swell. Regina had her back to her, but she could sense the expression on her face: she was proud, as she always was, and she was determined. Her dark eyes were flashing and her hands, which were still crossed in front her, were clenched into fists. But under it all was a quiver of fear. Emma knew her well enough to hear it when Killian couldn't.

'Then I guess we'd better just leave,' Killian said. 'Emma. Let's go.'

'I don't think so,' Regina replied, before Emma could even think about moving. 'I know what you do to her, Mr Jones. She's not going anywhere with you.'

'What I _do_ to her?' Killian threw back his head and laughed. It was a sound that made Regina's stomach turn over. She'd spent less than two minutes with this man and already she was struggling to understand how Emma had managed to survive two years. 'You really are gullible, aren't you?'

'I beg your pardon?'

'I don't do a _thing_ to her,' he said, shaking his head. Emma's body went cold as he spoke. 'Look – I'm not perfect. God knows I'm not. Our marriage isn't as good as it could be, but I try my best. Emma's just… she's _weak_ , I guess. She's always hurting herself and getting confused about how it happened. I do my best, but I can't babysit her 24/7 – I have a _job_ , you know?'

Regina clenched her jaw. She could feel Emma recoiling behind her.

Killian shrugged. 'It's been hard on us, since… the accident. Emma doesn't work anymore but I have to – I have to support our family. And then I get home and I see what Emma's done to herself that day, and I… I can clean her up and put her to bed, but I can't stay at home all day to take care of her. I love her, but it just can't work like that. That's why I put a tracker in her car – I just had to make sure she was safe, and didn't do anything stupid.'

Emma couldn't see Regina's face, but she could see the way that her shoulders were straightening below her crisp white shirt. Killian glanced past her and looked at his wife for a moment. There was no emotion in his eyes.

She wanted to curl up and die.

Emma waited for Regina to waver. She could feel it coming. She pulled the sleeves of her sweater further down, burying her hands inside them.

'That must be difficult,' Regina said quietly, and Emma's heart shattered.

'It is,' Killian agreed.

'It can't be easy for you,' Regina continued with a sigh, shaking her head, 'being so _completely_ deluded. I really can't imagine what the must be like.'

Killian's eyes flashed. The sudden animosity radiated from him like fire.

'Who, exactly, are you calling deluded?'

Regina blinked. 'Well – you, Mr Jones. I thought that was obvious.'

'How _dare you_ —'

'I'll tell you how I dare,' Regina interrupted him, her calmness cutting over the top of his anger before it ever had a chance to blossom. 'Because I'm not a fool, and because I will not let you attempt to pull the wool over my eyes. Because I've met idiots like you a hundred times before, thinking you can get whatever you want as long as you push someone else as far down as they can go. Even if Emma hadn't said a word, I would know what kind of person you were. That's how I dare to speak to you like this – because you simply don't deserve anything better.'

Killian glared at her. 'You know nothing.'

'I know more than enough.'

'You know what _she's_ told you,' he hissed, gesturing towards Emma with his fake hand. 'That's not the same thing.'

The way he spoke about Emma – like she was some worthless presence in the room that couldn't even understand what they were talking about – set Regina's teeth on edge. She crossed her arms over her chest.

'I think I'll be the judge of that, actually.'

Finally, Killian snapped. Whatever scraps of a mask has been lingering on his face vanished and he gritted his teeth, no longer playing the game.

'Look,' he said. Emma recognised that voice – the low, warning tone, and the growl of gravel at the back of his throat that always told her he was no longer messing around. She pushed herself far back into the corner of the sofa. Ahead of her, Regina didn't even flinch. The sight of her – so _tiny_ , but so utterly unmoveable – made her eyes burn.

Killian continued, 'Whatever you know, or whatever you think you know – I don't care. I honestly don't give a damn. I don't know who you are or where the hell my wife found you, but you need to get out of my way now. Because I swear to god that if I need to kill you to get to her, I will do it. And I'll make sure that no one comes looking for you afterwards.'

Regina laughed, and it was single most stupid and brave thing that she'd ever done. 'For some reason, I don't find your threats all that convincing.'

'Oh really?' Killian jeered. 'And why is that?'

'Because Emma is afraid of you,' Regina said simply. She so desperately wanted to turn around, to show Emma that she didn't mean this as an insult. To check that she was okay. 'And so it's easy to scare her. But I'm not afraid of you, Mr Jones, and nothing you can say is going to change that.'

'Then you're incredibly stupid,' Killian snapped.

'And you're incredibly arrogant,' Regina threw back, and the calmness of her voice was beginning to drive him mad. 'If threatening women is the only way you can get what you want, you've come to the wrong house. _No one_ threatens me.'

For a moment, Killian actually hesitated. It was so blindingly obvious that he wasn't going to get anywhere with her, and if he tried to push past her to get to Emma, she wouldn't hesitate for a second in punching him so hard that his face broke in half.

No one ever stood up to him – at work, he wore a uniform and he carried a gun and people did what he asked them. At home, he had neither of those things, and yet he just had to snap his fingers and Emma would do whatever he said.

Regina was a barrier that he hadn't been expecting, and for a single second it looked like he was going to back down.

But then he just laughed. 'Lucky for you, then, that I don't plan on staying in this house much longer.'

'Excellent,' Regina said. 'I'll show you the door.'

'Much obliged, love,' he said, and then finally, after what felt like hours of acting like she wasn't even in the room, he stepped past Regina and held his hand out to his wife. 'Emma. Come on. Time to go.'

Emma sat frozen on the couch, staring up at the pair of them. Regina hesitated, wanting to shove Killian's arm back but forcing herself not to.

She looked over at Emma and saw that her face had gone white. Not pale – her cheeks were the exact same shade as the magnolia walls behind her, making her newly split lip stand out even more aggressively. She was looking up at her husband with utter panic in her eyes. Even if the house had caught on fire then, she wouldn't have been able to get up.

And then Killian was moving, pushing past Regina before she could react. He grabbed his wife by the elbow and yanked her off of the couch, dragging her towards the door. Her feet stumbled on the carpet and she tried to pull back, but his grip on her arm was painfully tight and all she seemed to do was make him angrier. He tugged her more forcefully, ignoring her protests, and nearly reached the living room door. Then Regina stepped in front of him, appearing from nowhere like a cloud of purple smoke, and blocked his path with her arms crossed over her chest.

'Move,' Killian snapped, stepping right up into her face. He towered over her and Regina could smell the rum on his breath, but she would drop dead before she moved out of his path. Behind him, Emma was whimpering, still trying to pull her arm free from his incensed grip. His fingers were digging into the join of her elbow and it was bringing tears to her eyes.

Regina straightened up. 'I don't think so.'

A growl that was almost animal came from Killian's throat. He finally released Emma's elbow and she staggered backwards, pulling her arm to her chest. Killian glared down at Regina and repeated his command. 'Get out of my way.'

'No.'

Emma gasped when he reached out and shoved Regina backwards. Without thinking, Emma reached out her hands, too far away to do anything but still desperate to grab her arm and stop her from falling.

Regina staggered for a moment, then regained her footing before she was even past the threshold.

She looked back at the man towering over her and said in her quietest voice, 'If you try that again, Mr Jones, you will live to regret it.'

And somehow, Emma believed her. There was a power in Regina that was both impressive and terrifying, and she could see her husband faltering in the face of it. His good hand was clenched by his side, and Emma knew that if it had been her stood in front of him, he would have broken her jaw without thinking about it.

In the brief pause where he considered his next move, Regina glanced over Killian's shoulder and saw that Emma was still reaching out for her, her eyes wide. Regina's face softened in an instant, and in that one glance she tried to ask her a question. _Are you okay?_

But before Emma's eyes could flash with a response, Killian stepped back, turning his head to follow the look that was passing between this hateful woman and his wife. He saw the expression on Emma's face before she could conceal it. He went absolutely still.

'What…?' he muttered, and at once Emma's face fell flat again. Her hands dropped to her side. But he had seen it – he'd seen the concern in Regina's eyes, and the gratitude in Emma's. He'd seen something that was a lot more than just one friend protecting another. 'What _is_ this, Emma?'

Emma swallowed. 'Sorry?'

'This,' he demanded, and suddenly he was advancing on her again. His steps were quicker than normal – this wasn't a game anymore; a test to see just how far he could push her before he broke her completely. He didn't care about building up her fear until she couldn't think straight – she was already there. 'Who is she?'

Emma's mouth opened slightly. 'I… I told you. Regina's just a friend who—'

'You're _lying!_ ' Killian snapped, and Emma flinched away from him. She took a step backwards and he followed her, kicking the coffee table when it got in his way. 'Tell me what you're doing here! I'm not stupid – something is going on. Tell me. Now.'

Regina's barrier of belligerent comments was gone in an instant, and Emma was left facing him with nothing to protect her. She took another step backwards. Over Killian's shoulder she could see that fear had torn Regina's mask of quiet confidence clean from her face, but they both knew that she couldn't step in again.

For a moment Regina wondered exactly what Killian was trying to get out of Emma – and then, like a bolt of lightning, she remembered what Emma had said to her the very first time they met: _I can't just take off to East Jesus Nowhere at the drop of a hat to go and see a kid that my husband doesn't even know about_.

Regina groaned, her eyes taking in Emma's terrified face.

'I already told you,' Emma said, and her voice was so small and apologetic that it made Regina want to weep. 'I couldn't take you hitting me anymore, and so I left and came here. Regina agreed to take me in. That's all there is to it.'

Killian moved closer to her, and Regina instinctively stepped after him. Emma's trembling fingers were gripped around the ends of her sleeves. She had gone so pale that Regina didn't know how she was still standing upright.

'I see,' Killian said in a low voice. 'And Regina here… she really is just a friend. Right?'

Emma tried to straighten her shoulders.

'Right,' she said. Her voice shook.

'So I shouldn't read too much into the fact that this strange woman who I've never heard of is the first person you go running to when you get tired of me?' Killian said, taking another step closer. Emma forced herself to stand her ground, forced herself not to look at Regina. 'Or the fact that you were in the same bedroom together at three o'clock this morning?'

Regina's stomach plummeted.

'She heard the car,' Emma said quietly, willing her jaw to stop trembling. 'She came into my room to find out who it was.'

'I'm sure she did,' Killian said, nodding. 'And the fact that all she's done since I got here is try to get rid of me again – I shouldn't think too much of that, either?'

'I…' Emma swallowed. Killian was looming over her and she could never concentrate when he was breathing down her neck like that. 'She knows that I don't feel comfortable around you.'

'You're my _wife_ ,' he suddenly yelled, and Emma cringed away from him like he'd hit her. 'If you don't feel comfortable then that's _your_ problem, not mine. Don't try and act like this is somehow my fault.'

'Killian,' Emma said, taking a deep breath. 'You must have known I was unhappy.'

'You're always unhappy!' Killian snapped at her, jabbing a finger against her chest. Regina took a step forwards, clenching her fists, but Emma lifted one hand by her waist, telling her to stay put. 'How the hell am I supposed to know what's causing it or what you want? Every day, there's something wrong. When I tell you that I don't want you to work, I'm being selfish for wanting to keep you safe. When I ask you not to flirt with other guys, suddenly I'm being unreasonable. And now you're here, with _her_ , and you left me without even leaving a note, and yet again I'm the bad guy. I'm the one who got dumped without so much as a goodbye and just because I decided to come after you and try to get you to think this through, I'm some kind of villain?'

His words were getting progressively shorter and louder, and Emma could feel her chest beginning to bruise from where his finger kept stabbing at it. She shook her head, trying to push his words out of it. _He's wrong. He's twisting it. Don't listen to him_.

She could feel Regina's concern from the other side of the room, but for once, it wasn't enough. He was in her head. She could feel herself wavering.

When Emma didn't respond, Killian growled. He reached out a hand and shoved her shoulder, watching with some satisfaction as she crashed back against the wall with a whimper.

At once, Regina stepped forward. This had gone too far, and she could see what was coming next. She wasn't about to stand around and watch helplessly as this man beat his wife into the bricks.

And she was right – she wasn't.

Before anyone else could say or do anything, Emma suddenly spoke.

'Regina,' she croaked out, her head resting back against the wall. Killian glared down at her, his fist tightening by his hip. 'I need you to go.'

Regina spluttered, ' _What_?'

'Please,' Emma said. At once, Killian turned to look at Regina with poisonous satisfaction dripping from his face. In that moment Regina looked Emma in the eye and saw exactly why she was asking her to leave: she didn't want her to see this either.

Regina just stared at her, her hands hanging uselessly by her sides. If she left, she knew what would happen. She wouldn't be able to do a thing to stop it. If she stayed, she could at least pull Killian off of her.

But she knew it wouldn't do any good – even with one hand, he was stronger than both of them. He would knock her out before she could throw a single punch.

But she couldn't just walk out. She wouldn't. Emma needed her.

When she didn't budge, Killian laughed. 'I think she just told you to go, love.'

Regina immediately turned her sharp eyes on him and snapped, 'And I think you'll find that this is _my house_.'

But Emma was still looking at her with wide, pleading eyes, and it stopped her fire in its tracks. Emma knew what was coming just as well as she did, but somehow it didn't seem that important to her. All she cared about was getting Regina out of his way.

Regina gritted her teeth. 'I'm not leaving this house,' she said as firmly as she could manage.

That, at least, Emma seemed to agree on. She took a shaky breath.

'I was making dinner for us both,' she said quietly, and as Regina's heart thudded, Killian turned to glare at his wife. 'It's on the stove. Maybe you… you could finish it.'

It was optimistic to believe that she would be around to eat it, and they both knew it.

As if Killian wasn't there, Regina said softly, 'Emma. Please.'

Emma forced a smile.

'Go,' she said, nodding towards the kitchen. She looked so desperate that it sent a stab of pain through Regina's chest.

And god help her, she did as she was told. Forcing herself not to look back, Regina walked out of the room and made her way into the kitchen.

She immediately walked over to the phone, picking it up and dialling 9 and then the first 1. Then she stopped. She groaned to herself.

Emma had obviously never called the police before, and there must be a reason for that. Maybe with Killian being a cop himself, Emma knew that turning him in wouldn't do anything.

But this was a different state – this wasn't his jurisdiction. Surely none of that counted here.

Regina sighed, looking towards the closed door. She couldn't hear anything, and that only made her more nervous. She deleted the numbers from the display and then immediately kicked herself, dialling them back out again.

What if she called and then Emma refused to press charges? What if she never forgave Regina for doing it? She could still decide to stay with Killian, and if Regina called the police now, maybe everything would be so much worse for Emma when she got back home. _Oh God…_ Regina threw the phone back onto the counter, running her fingers through her hair.

She saw the glass dish on top of the stove then. Emma had made lasagne for them both. The mere sight of it made her want to cry.

She glanced back over at the door and felt a cold panic bubbling up inside of her. She didn't know what to do. The only friend she had in the world was out there and she'd run out of ways to protect her.

* * *

Killian tucked a strand of Emma's hair behind her ear, smiling tightly at her. Emma forced herself not to flinch. With Regina gone she felt safer and desperately more vulnerable all at once. She was glad that Regina wouldn't see this, wouldn't get hurt herself – but god, she already missed the security of her bold questions and her no-nonsense stares.

She had no idea what Regina would be doing now. Maybe she would call the cops – despite her terror, Emma half hoped that she would, although she had no idea if that would even make a difference.

To her, Killian could do _anything_. There was nothing he wasn't capable of – whenever she thought that she was at rock bottom, he could drag her further down. Whenever she thought that she was going to finally get up and leave, he could flick the switch, becoming soft and gentle at just the right moment, throwing her off. He could track her into another state and he could make her miss him in spite of goddamn everything. If Regina called the police, god knows what he could do then. God knows what would happen to Emma afterwards, either.

Killian brushed his hand against her cheek and she shuddered.

'I'm glad she's gone,' he murmured. 'Things are better when it's just the two of us.'

Emma didn't respond. She couldn't.

'When you come back home, things will be different,' he said. 'I'll make things right. I promise.'

Emma swallowed. 'Killian…'

'And you won't have to worry about this weird town anymore,' he interrupted her, his hand now fiddling with one of her blonde curls. 'Or that woman. I'll keep you safe from her.'

Emma shrugged away from him at once. 'I don't need protecting from her.'

'I think you do, Em,' he said softly. 'She's gotten in your head. That's why you told her to leave – so we could talk without her getting involved. Ruining things.'

His hand was still on the side of her face and the pressure of it started to feel suffocating. Emma smiled sadly, telling herself to stay quiet. If she disagreed, it would all start all over again. Just agree and it'll be okay.

Then she sighed. What utter bullshit.

She'd spent the last two years of her life agreeing with whatever he said, desperately hoping that it would be enough to stop him from wanting to hurt her. But deep down, she knew that whatever she said or did, he would find a reason to hit her. Telling him what he wanted to hear only made him feel like he was right to do it.

Her whole body was aching and the smell of him pressed up against her was nauseating, but finally, she was too tired to lie.

'Regina is keeping me safe from you, Killian,' she said, meeting his eye at long last. 'Why else do you think I'm here? I didn't leave you because I fancied a change, or because I've always wanted to try real Maine lobster. I left because you were abusive and I'd finally had enough. I'm not… I'm not coming back. No matter what you say or do now, I'm not coming back home.'

Killian face went tight. She'd already told him once that night that she wasn't leaving, and he'd ignored it. Now though, she said it more firmly. Even without that damn dark-haired woman in the room to twist her thoughts, she was telling him no.

He gritted his teeth and lifted his hand, pressing his thumb against her split lip. It stung.

'Yes you are.'

Emma clenched her jaw and tugged her head back, pulling herself free.

'No, I'm _not_ ,' she snapped, ignoring the icy look that was forming in Killian's blue eyes. 'I've told you over and over again – I'm done. I need a fresh start. And since all you've said since the day we got married is that I'm a disaster and a terrible wife and the worst thing that's ever happened to you, you have no reason to convince me to stay. We aren't good together, Killian. You need to go, and I need to stay here.'

'Here,' Killian muttered. 'With _her_.'

'Maybe,' Emma replied. 'Or maybe not. I don't know yet.'

Killian just nodded, and it was the reasonableness of his gesture that made Emma's heart stop.

'You know,' he said slowly, reaching back up so that he could gently place his good hand against the side of Emma's face. His thumb automatically traced along the thick cut on her cheekbone. 'You still haven't told me where you two met.'

'It's… not important.'

'You see, the fact that you refuse to tell me lets me know that it _is_ important,' he said. There was a long pause where he waited for Emma to say something. When she didn't, he suddenly gripped hold of her hair, making her yelp.

'Tell me,' he said, pinning her back against the wall by the roots of her curls. When she whimpered, trying to twist away from him, he just smiled. 'Tell me where you met her.'

'I don't know,' Emma stammered, blinking back tears. Trying to pull away only made it worse. 'I don't remember. She's just a friend. She was the furthest person from Boston and I—'

'You're a _liar_ ,' Killian snapped, tugging her hair forwards so that her head was momentarily pulled from the wall, before abruptly slamming it backwards. As her skull collided with the bricks she let out a cry, blinking through the bright white spots in front of her eyes. Down the hall, she knew that Regina could hear them.

'I'm not lying,' she pleaded, trying to keep her voice low. 'Killian, please. Let go of me.'

'Tell me,' he repeated, once again smacking her head back against the wall, ' _where you met her_.'

Emma reached up and tried to uncurl his fingers from in her hair. Suddenly his left arm was pushed up against her throat, making her choke.

He leaned forwards and placed his hot mouth against her ear. 'Tell me, or I'll press down on this pretty little throat until you pass out. Then I'll go and ask her instead.'

Squeezing her eyes shut, Emma forced out, 'Please.'

'I won't be so polite this time,' Killian drawled, pressing more of his weight against her neck. She let out a strangled moan. 'In fact, without you in the room, who _knows_ what I could do. She's a good looking lady, after all. And she's small. I doubt she'd put up much of a fight.'

Fear grabbed at Emma's stomach and, as the room began to spin around her, she blurted out, 'Fine – please let go. I'll tell you. Please, Killian.'

His arm eased off of her throat and she gasped, sucking the air back into her lungs. His other hand stayed buried in her hair, snapping it at the roots.

'Go on then, love,' he said quietly. 'I'm all ears.'

Emma glanced out the door, checking that Regina was still as far away as possible, and took a breath. Her lungs felt thin and papery, like any moment now they would catch on fire.

'I met her last week.'

Killian gripped her hair even tighter. 'Where?'

'In Boston,' Emma said. She wanted desperately wanted to close her eyes. 'She came to find me.'

'And why did she do that?'

'Because…' Emma nearly choked. Forcing back tears, she said, '…because her son asked her to.'

'Who the hell is her son?' Killian snapped. 'Why did he want to find you?'

'Because I… I'm the one who gave birth to him,' Emma whispered, and at long last, her husband fell silent. 'When I was 17. I had a baby while I was in juvie and I gave him up. Regina adopted him.'

Killian's nostrils flared, and he let out a sound that was half a grunt and half a hiss. 'You're lying.'

Emma could feel herself starting to cry and she willed the feeling to go away. Crying only made it worse. Killian would slap the tears straight off of her face.

'I'm not lying,' she croaked. 'I never mentioned it to anyone because I wanted to forget it ever happened. But the kid… he asked Regina to find me, and she did. She tracked me down and showed up one day while you were at work.'

'To ask you _what_ exactly?'

'To come here,' she murmured, her voice trembling. 'To meet him.'

All of a sudden, Killian let go of her, letting her stagger back against the wall. He took a step backwards and glared around the room. It didn't take long for him to find what he was looking for.

He strode over to the opposite corner of the room and grabbed a picture frame off of the shelf. It contained a photo of Regina with her arms around Henry, both of their faces beaming out from behind the glass. Killian snarled down at it like he'd just found a cockroach in the house.

He turned back to Emma and held the photo out. 'This is him?'

'Yes.'

He began to walk back across the room, never looking up from the frame in his hands.

'What's his name?' he asked. He was a couple of metres away from Emma, but it felt like he was still pressing against her windpipe.

'I… can't tell you.'

Killian looked up, raising his eyebrows at her. 'And why not?'

'Because… I don't know what you'll do.'

When he simply laughed, Emma felt her stomach shrivel up inside her. After a moment he turned away, glancing out at the hallway. At the staircase.

'Well,' he said quietly, tossing the picture onto the couch. 'Maybe he'll tell me.'

Terror gripped at Emma's chest and she heard herself choke out, 'He's not _here,_ Killian.'

'Why the hell should I believe that?'

'Because you've been here for hours now and there hasn't been any sign of him,' Emma snapped back. She could see the hateful look on Killian's face and it was making her blood run cold – she had seen him angry before, but this was different. His rage was simmering quietly just below his skin, making it bubble in her blurry eyes. The sight of it made her nauseous.

She pressed her hands against her stomach, unable to take her eyes off of the murderous glint in her husband's eye as he gazed at the ceiling above them, where her 10-year-old son could be hiding, trying to get away from him too.

The silence around them crackled, and Emma felt every hair on her body stand on end. She didn't dare to move.

Eventually he turned back to look at her, utter disgust plastered across his face, and her stomach plummeted like a rock in the ocean. He slowly reached up and began to take his jacket off.

'So,' he said, shrugging the leather from his shoulders. Emma watched every movement. 'Were you ever going to tell me about him?'

'I... I don't know,' Emma stammered. 'It was a dark part of my life. It wasn't important anymore.'

He nodded, folding the jacket in half. He draped it over his arm and folded it again, then placed it gently on the couch next to the discarded picture frame.

'I see,' he said. 'And who's the lucky man who had the pleasure of creating that bundle of joy with you?'

'Neal,' Emma said quietly. 'I told you about him. The one who—'

'Yes, Emma,' Killian snapped, interrupting her like he always did when that subject came up. 'I remember.'

Emma fell silent. Killian ran his hands through his hair, not looking at her.

'So a random woman shows up to our house,' he continued, his eyes back on that photo. 'And tells you that your son wants to see you. What did you do?'

'I told her to leave.'

'Why?'

Emma blinked. 'Because I didn't want to get involved in that. I gave him up for a reason.'

'Fair enough,' Killian said, but there was an edge to his voice. He started to walk back towards her, still not looking up. 'But you _did_ come here in the end. What changed your mind?'

Swallowing, Emma said, 'I had nowhere else to go.'

'You didn't have to _go_ anywhere.'

It was the same conversation over and over again, but the predatory look on Killian's face told Emma that she couldn't answer like she had done earlier. He was prowling around her, his gaze low and his shoulders tensed. Every step on the soft carpet sounded like a snake rustling through the grass.

'I didn't plan to come here,' she whispered, pressing herself further back against the wall. 'I just… did.'

At last, when he was less than two feet away, Killian looked back up at her. She immediately wished that he hadn't.

His eyes were so cold that they almost looked grey. He pressed his lips together and let his gaze run down her body like wintry rain, taking in every single centimetre of her that he had ever found inadequate or disappointing. He sniffed. Then he took another step forward, looking her dead in the eye.

'You are disgusting,' he said softly, and Emma swallowed. Before she saw it move, his hand shot out and grabbed her throat, pinning her back against the wall. She choked, clutching hold of his wrist, but for once he wasn't letting up. This wasn't a game – he was pressing down on her windpipe and she could feel her blood beginning to thud against her temples. Airless words left her mouth as she felt the split in her lip crack back open, the cold air hissing against it like steam.

'You have some secret child,' he spat at her, watching as her face began to turn red. 'You were never going to tell me about him. And the second things get tough at home, here you are – with your bastard child and his bitch of a mother, hiding from me because you think I'm too stupid to be able to find you.'

Emma shook her head, panic drumming against her skull. The room was spinning. Killian's fingers were pressed against her throat like it was made of putty and the terror was building inside her, higher and higher until it threatened to drown her. She could feel her legs giving way.

Then he suddenly released her, not waiting for her to catch her breath before he slapped her so hard that she fell to the ground. As she lay there, choking and trying to suck the air back into her lungs, he delivered a kick to her ribs that was so ferocious she nearly vomited on the carpet.

She wanted to curl herself up into a ball, but she couldn't – she couldn't think. Pressing her face into the floor with the room still blurry around her, she frantically tried to get her bearings. Everything was hurting, and she could hear a roaring in her eyes. She groaned, trying to turn over.

It was then that she realised that he was on top of her, beating his good fist against her face again and again without letting up for a moment. She could hear a wailing sound, like a siren screeching down at her, and with a rush of shame she realised that it was coming from her.

She covered her face with her hands and let out another scream, and immediately he stopped, reaching out to grab her hair and pull her head up off of the floor.

'Shut the fuck up,' he spat, slamming her head back against the ground. She was crying and she couldn't stop, couldn't summon the energy to get a hold of herself, and through the murky haze she saw him get up and take a few steps away from her. He looked down at his wife, at the hot tears running down her mottled red cheeks, and scoffed like she was an animal.

He swung his foot out and laughed when he heard the crack of it against her ankle. She howled, tugging her knees up to her stomach and pressing herself more firmly into the ground.

There was a long pause where the room stopped spinning ever so slightly, and she felt him kneel down beside her, his hand resting on the side of her face. He stroked it for a moment, not saying a word, pushing her damp curls back from her cheek. Then he lifted his fist and delivered the blow she'd been waiting for.

As her whole skull vibrated from the force of his punches, she listened to him spitting words down at her like she was a dog.

'You think,' he hissed, punctuating every word with a thump against the side of her face, 'that you can _get away_ with this shit? You think you can get away from me?'

Emma attempted to bury her face beneath her hands, but he slapped them away. She frantically tried to roll away from him, pressing her face into the carpet, and he clambered back on top of her.

'Please, Killian, stop it,' she begged. ' _Please_.'

'You make me sick,' he said, reaching out to grab hold of her face with one hand, turning it up to face him. She squinted at him, barely able to make him out through eyes that were already swelling shut. 'I'm your husband. You're meant to respect me. Instead, you sneak around behind my back with _a son_ that I don't even know about. And you have the audacity to tell me that you don't want to have kids? Are you kidding?!'

Emma was vaguely aware that her nose was bleeding. She was trickling blood onto the carpet.

She thought of Regina and groaned.

' _Answer me_.'

'Killian,' Emma said, her voice coming from far away. She could taste the blood now. 'Please. Stop hurting me.'

'Give me one bloody reason why I should,' he hissed, letting go of her jaw and watching as her head fell back to the side with a dull thud. Emma whimpered, her eyes flickering shut. She could feel herself disappearing under his weight, crumbling across the ground like nothing more than a piece of burned paper.

And then she felt the air shift. When her husband didn't say another word – didn't deliver another blow – she knew that something had happened. Sucking in all of her courage, and she forced herself to open her eyes once more.

Regina was stood behind Killian, one of the kitchen knives gripped in her hand. She had the blade pressed against the underside of his jaw. Her knuckles were white.

'Get off of her.'

Killian growled, taking his hands off of Emma and holding them in the air. 'Look. I'm not doing anything.'

At once, Regina leaned forwards and pressed the knife more firmly against his throat. Killian hissed, and Emma watched as the skin on his neck turned white against the point of the blade.

'Get,' Regina said quietly, leaning close to his ear. _'Off_.'

Gritting his teeth, Killian forced himself to his feet. Regina guided him away from Emma using the knife, leading him across to the other side of the room. She looked eerily calm, but even from her position on the floor, Emma could see the rage burning in her black eyes. When she had pushed Killian against the wall, she threw him a look that was so murderous that even Emma flinched.

Then she turned away, walking back towards Emma with three short strides. She crouched down by her side. The knife dropped to the carpet as Regina reached out both hands, gently cupping Emma's face between them. Her jaw was set in a hard line and her dark eyes were scanning across every inch of Emma's face, taking in everything that he'd done to her. She swallowed.

'Are you okay?' she muttered, stroking her thumb against Emma's swollen cheek. Somehow, Emma summoned the strength that allowed her to nod. She saw Regina's eyes flash once more before she sighed, then reached forwards and gently helped Emma up off of the floor.

Emma's ribs were bruised and her nose was still bleeding, but she forced herself to stand. Regina guided her over to the couch on an ankle that Emma was almost certain was broken.

Regina squeezed Emma's hand before she turned away again, bending to pick up the knife. Killian was still stood by the door, his face twisted with annoyance. Regina noted with some pride that she could see a red mark on his throat.

Holding the knife loosely in one hand, she approached him. Even in her heels she had to look up to meet his eye, but the power balance was clear. Everything had changed now. Emma watched it shift before her very eyes.

'You listen to me very closely,' Regina said quietly, gesturing to his stomach with the tip of the blade. Killian glanced apathetically down at it. 'You are disgusting. You are a vile human being who doesn't deserve anything – least of all this woman who, for some reason that I will never be able to grasp, actually decided to marry you.'

'You don't know—'

' _Shut up_ ,' Regina spat at him, and he did. He stuck his jaw out like a petulant teenager as Regina's words rained down on him. ' _Look at her!_ Look at what you've done to her. She's deserved _none_ of this. All she has done is try to make you happy and try to make you love her, and all you've ever done in return is torture her and torment her and make her feel so worthless that she thinks she has no choice but to stay with you. But you and I both know that that's not the case – Emma could do a thousand times better than you just by crossing the street and striking up a conversation with the nearest homeless man. Nothing about you is worth her staying in this marriage, and just when she actually managed to convince herself of that, you came back and you tore her to pieces all over again.'

'She didn't have to marry me,' Killian said flatly, crossing his arms over his chest. 'That was her choice.'

'And it's been a prison sentence ever since,' Regina threw back at him. 'You have her trapped, and you like her that way. Well, I won't stand for it – whatever you want to throw at her, I will take it. I will let you kill me here in the middle of my own house before I let you lay a filthy finger on her again.'

Perched on the edge of the couch, Emma felt tears welling up again. She looked over at the pair of them – at the man who had promised to love her and protect her for the rest of her life, and the woman who she'd only known for a week but was fighting for her like her life depended on it. The difference between them was so astounding that she almost slapped herself for being so blind.

There was Regina, with her fist clamped around a knife and ferocity burning in her eyes, and Emma had actually questioned whether she should stay.

Killian glanced across at her, and his expression didn't flicker. He looked at her like she was a pillow that he'd never particularly liked, but was clinging onto because he was too lazy to buy another one. And it was then that Emma realised something with painful, sudden clarity: he didn't love her. He never had.

She swallowed against the sharp lump in her throat, waiting for the crashing sound that would surely accompany her entire life crumbling to pieces around her. But instead she heard sirens. Sirens pouring down the street.

She looked over at the window and saw blue lights flashing. Her heart stopped.

Regina saw them at the same time and sighed, lowering the knife. She turned to look at Emma.

'I called them, Emma,' she said quietly. 'I'm sorry. I had to.'

And after a second, Emma nodded.

Behind her, Regina heard Killian gently laughing to himself. She knew exactly what he was thinking: he was a cop. He could talk his way out of this one, no trouble. He lounged back against the wall with his bored eyes rolling to the ceiling. There was a knock at the door before Regina could reach out and slap him.

Hating herself for leaving Emma in the same room as him, Regina strode out into the hall and pulled open the front door.

'Graham,' she said, forcing a smile. He nodded curtly at her. 'Come in.'

He glanced down at the knife in her hand as he entered the house, two other officers trailing behind him. Regina gestured towards the living room and turned to close the door.

Graham stopped in his tracks as soon as he saw Emma. She was still sat on the couch, blood drying below her nose and a black eye slowly forming. Her injured ankle was stretched out in front of her.

'Oh,' he said, stepping into the room. As he entered, he saw Killian. 'Who are you?'

Killian offered him a charming smile, holding out his good hand. 'Killian Jones. I'm an officer too, back in Boston.'

Regina walked into the room, rolling her eyes. She held the knife in front of her like it was an accessory.

Graham didn't respond, instead walking over to Emma. He knelt down beside her, his brow furrowing. 'And what's your name?'

She wetted her lips. 'Emma Jones.'

'Are you okay, Mrs Jones?'

At once, Emma flinched. 'Please, just... Just Emma.'

'Okay,' Graham nodded. 'Emma. Can you tell us what happened to you?'

She glanced up, looking over at where Killian was still standing casually against the wall. The other two officers were stood either side of him, but she barely noticed them. Killian's eyes were burning into her skull and she could feel her hands beginning to shake again.

When she didn't respond to Graham's question, he frowned. After a moment he looked over at Regina, who was stood in the doorway wearing fury on her face like thick paint.

'Madam Mayor?'

At that exact moment, every person in the room saw Killian jump. He turned to look at her. ' _Mayor_?'

She threw a patronising smile back at him. 'That's right, dear.'

'You don't think you should have mentioned that?'

'Why?' Regina asked flatly, raising her eyebrows. 'Because if you'd known who you were dealing with, you might have decided against beating your wife in front of me?'

Graham stood upright then, turning to look at him. 'Is that true?'

Killian scoffed, rolling his eyes. 'Of course it's not. Look, Sheriff – this is all a big misunderstanding. My wife disappeared and I managed to trace her to this town. When I arrived, this is what she looked like. God knows how she got those injuries, but they happened in this house.'

'They happened in this house alright,' Regina spat, fighting the urge to walk over to him and slap the smirk off of his face. 'Right after you stormed in here, having planted a tracker in your wife's car, and demanded that she come home with you again.'

'Don't listen to her, officer,' Killian said to Graham. 'I was worried about Emma so I came to find her – and clearly I was right to do so. She's in danger here.'

'From _you_ ,' Regina said.

'You're the one holding a knife, Madam Mayor,' Killian said, smirking.

'And you're the one with Emma's blood on your knuckles, Mr Jones,' Regina replied. There was a pause as everyone in the room looked down at his right hand. It was swollen and cut across two knuckles, and dried blood covered most of his fingers.

He swallowed. 'Because I wiped the blood off her face.'

'Oh, for god's sake,' Regina groaned.

'Madam Mayor, please,' Graham said, turning back to face Emma. Her lower lip was trembling. 'Emma. We can't do anything unless you tell us what happened.'

Emma glanced over at Regina. She knew that Regina was wondering what would happen if Emma refused to admit what Killian had done: she was the mayor, and she was putting a lot on the line here. Like everything else Regina had done in the last few days, it was for Emma. She just wanted her to be safe.

Fighting through the taste of blood, Emma forced herself to speak. 'He attacked me.'

Regina sagged with relief. Killian let out a noise of utter disbelief.

'Just today?' Graham asked, crouching back down beside her, 'or before now as well?'

'Before now,' Emma said, her eyes on her lap. 'It's been… it's been going on for nearly a year. I left him because it got too much.'

'And he followed you?'

Emma nodded. 'Like Regina said – there's a tracker in my car. I don't know where but I'm sure you'll be able to find it.'

'This is bullshit,' Killian spat out, making Emma flinch. Graham's sharp eyes caught the movement at once. 'She's obviously lying. For god's sake – I'm a police officer. Why would I do something so stupid?'

Still not looking up, Emma said, 'I arrived in town three days ago and my face was already bruised. You can ask at the hospital. Henry's doctor saw me the day after I got here.'

'Which doctor is that?' Graham asked, looking up at Regina.

'Doctor Whale,' she replied.

Graham nodded. 'We'll get that checked out.'

He turned back to Killian, who was starting to look less confident. 'Mr Jones, I'm placing you under arrest.'

As the two officers grabbed him and Graham started to read him his rights, Emma squeezed her eyes shut, listening to her husband's protests with a twisting pain in her stomach. She felt very far away all of a sudden, like she had suddenly gotten lost.

Graham radioed for an ambulance. As slowly as she could, Regina began to approach the couch with one hand nervously outstretched. She had no idea what she could do to make this easier for Emma, but she just wanted to try.

But she was cut off before she could reach her.

'Emma,' Killian suddenly said as he was being pushed towards the door. 'Emma, love. Look at me. Please.'

Regina took a step back from the couch and watched as Emma forced out a sigh, looking up at her husband with an exhausted expression on her face. She waited for him to speak.

'Emma, please,' he said, struggling against the officer who was holding him. 'Tell them the truth. Don't let her get away with this – tell them what really happened.'

Regina had never seen Emma look so small before. Her hands were shaking in her lap, and with every eye in the room turned towards her, she looked like she would love nothing more in the whole world than to disappear into nothing. She swallowed and, for a split second, Regina saw uncertainty on her face. Her heart stopped.

'Did you _ever_ love me?' Emma asked quietly, taking both Killian and Regina by surprise.

'What?' Killian spluttered. 'How can you even ask that? Baby, I—'

'Don't call me baby,' Emma interrupted, her voice painfully quiet. 'You don't get to call me that. Tell me the truth – did you ever love me at all?'

'Of course I love you,' Killian said, but the impatience in his voice was getting more obvious. 'Why would you even—?'

'All you've _ever_ done is make me feel worthless,' Emma said, not blinking. Her face was screwed up in a frown that reminded Regina so much of Henry that it hurt her heart. 'From day one, you tried to mould me into some twisted design of how you wanted me to be, and when I couldn't fit you just beat me until I forced myself further in. You've been so _cruel_ to me, Killian. Why would you do that?'

But Killian had looked away from her. He was shaking his head, glancing around at the two officers who stood either side of him. 'I'm sorry. She's obviously not thinking straight. She can get a bit crazy sometimes when—'

'Sheriff,' Regina suddenly snapped, cutting Killian off before he could say another hateful word. 'Would you please remove this man from my house?'

And Graham nodded, gesturing for the officers to take him away. 'Of course, Madam Mayor.'

They pushed Killian into the hall and Regina followed for a few steps, watching from the front door to make sure that he actually got into the patrol car. Graham paused on the path, then turned to look back at her.

'We're going to need to bring you both in for questioning, Madam Mayor,' he said. Regina nodded.

'I'm aware of that,' she said quietly. 'Is the ambulance on its way?'

'Yes.'

'Good,' she said, running her hands through her hair. 'Miss Swan doesn't have insurance, so if you could tell the hospital to send the bill to me, I would appreciate it.'

Graham blinked. 'Of course.'

He turned away and walked down the rest of the path, the radio pressed to his mouth. Several of Regina's neighbours were gathered in the street, watching as Killian was taken away.

Regina took a deep breath and turned away from the road, walking back into her house. It felt a lot smaller than it had done earlier.

She found Emma exactly where she had left her, pressed as far into the corner of the couch as she could go. She was leaning against her knees with her face buried in her hands, but Regina could tell that she wasn't crying. She was just taking a moment.

Swallowing, Regina entered the room. 'Emma?'

Emma didn't respond. It wasn't until she felt the couch dip beside her that she pulled her hands away.

'Am I a bad person?' she asked.

'No. You aren't.'

'I've just sent my husband to jail, probably,' Emma said quietly, one of her eyes swollen and purple and the other as wide and as green as Regina had ever seen it. 'And I feel bad about that but mostly – I'm so _relieved_ , Regina. I'm so tired and this… All of this…'

She couldn't finish her sentence and Regina didn't expect her to. She shuffled closer, stretching out one arm, and without even thinking about it Emma fell into her embrace, burying her face in Regina's warm shoulder.

Careful not to hold her too tightly, Regina rubbed gentle circles over Emma's back, trying to calm her own breathing down. In the heat of everything that had happened she hadn't really had a chance to absorb a moment of it. Now, everything felt still again, and with it she felt the adrenaline leave her.

She closed her eyes and willed her hands to stop trembling.

'Thank you, Regina.'

Emma's voice was muffled by Regina's shirt, but she heard it perfectly. There was so much more to be said, and they both knew it. They both knew everything that Emma meant. And so Regina just smiled sadly and squeezed her tighter.

'You're welcome.'

Emma screwed her eyes shut, trying to force back more tears. The dried blood under her nose was beginning to itch.

'I got blood on your carpet,' she mumbled, and Regina laughed.

'I think I'll get over that.'

Three figures suddenly appeared in the doorway, and Regina reluctantly released Emma, turning around to face them. It was Graham, closely followed by two paramedics.

'I'm sorry, Madam Mayor,' he said quietly, stepping into the room. 'We need to get Emma to the hospital now.'

'Of course,' Regina said, squeezing Emma's hand.

'And I'm afraid you'll need to be questioned,' he continued, addressing Emma. 'We need your official statement.'

Regina turned to look at her, to check that she was okay, and found that Emma was already looking back at her.

'Will you…' she started, squeezing back on Regina's hand. 'Will you come with me?'

Regina smiled.

'Of course.'

Emma took a deep breath, closing her eyes one last time. Then she nodded up at Graham, forcing herself to straighten her shoulders.

'Okay then,' she said, grimacing. Her face was pale. 'Let's go.'

* * *

_**A/N:** Potentially quite annoying news...I'm going on holiday tomorrow guys. I'll be away for two weeks with no laptop and very little internet, so there will be a longer gap before I post the final chapter. It should go online on **Sunday 31st July! _(_** _Not August like I originally posted, because I am an idiot)_ Sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry...!_


	10. Chapter 10

Regina unlocked the front door and held out a hand. Without hesitating, Emma took hold of it and let herself be guided over the threshold.

'Thanks,' she said, wincing as she put weight on her strapped up ankle. It wasn't broken, but it was badly bruised and Doctor Whale had told her not to walk on it for a couple of weeks – but, naturally, there was some kind of inexplicable crutch shortage in the hospital, and they wouldn't be able to get her one until the next day.

She grabbed onto the console table and hobbled further into the house.

'You should have stayed overnight like they told you to,' Regina said as she closed the door. She turned back to watch Emma stubbornly trying to move through the house on her own, clinging to furniture as she went. It was equal parts endearing and hilarious.

'I don't like hospitals,' Emma said, grabbing hold of the wall and hopping forwards. 'Besides, an overnight stay would have doubled the bill. I wasn't about to do that to you.'

'While that is sweet, it is also ridiculous,' Regina said, walking after her. Emma had barely made it to the living room door and at this rate it was going to take her a week to get to the kitchen. 'I don't begrudge spending money on people who are injured.'

'I'm fine,' Emma grunted. 'They gave me a proper check up and everything is good.'

'That may be true, but you still should have stayed overnight.'

'There was no point, Regina,' Emma sighed. 'They did their questioning and they cleaned me up and I don't have a concussion or anything. I just wanted to get back home.'

Regina smiled at the word 'home' but turned her face away so Emma wouldn't see it.

'I realise that,' she said, still walking slowly alongside her. 'But do you not think—?'

'We've already had this discussion,' Emma interrupted. 'I won. I didn't want to stay there, and we both know you didn't want to stay here alone either. So here I am.'

Emma's attention was still fixed on trying to make it across the house, and finally Regina sighed. She stepped closer to her and slid an arm around her waist.

'Come along, Miss Swan,' she said, pulling her close against her body. 'I'm not getting any younger.'

Emma rolled her eyes, but reached her arm up and wrapped it around Regina's shoulders. 'Thank you.'

Regina guided Emma towards the kitchen. Both of them avoided the living room without even discussing it, and as they passed by Regina was vaguely aware of the fact that she would need to clean Emma's blood out of the carpet.

The house was much quieter now, and beneath Regina's hands Emma's body felt sharp like a piece of flint. She held her as close to her side as she could without hurting her even more.

'Thanks,' Emma said when they reached the middle of the kitchen. She grabbed the nearest stool and hoisted herself up onto it, grimacing.

Regina took a step back and looked at her. Emma's left eye was surrounded by a ring of deep purple and was nearly swollen shut. She had scraped her hair back into a tight ponytail that only seemed to exaggerate her injuries, and the thick split running down her lip looked like it had been drawn on with a Sharpie.

She looked up and saw Regina watching her. 'What?'

'Nothing,' Regina said, leaning back against the counter. 'You're just… You look a lot calmer than I would have expected.'

Inside, Emma's stomach was curling around like a pit full of snakes and her heart was aching in a way that somehow hurt more than her bruises. But Regina was right – she did feel strangely at ease. She'd been tensed up and waiting to get hurt every day for the last year of her life and now it finally felt like she could unclench her muscles again.

'Yeah,' she sighed, adjusting her position and trying not to wince. 'I know what you mean. I thought I'd be freaking out too.'

'Aren't you?'

Emma considered it for a moment.

'Yeah,' she admitted, forcing a smile. 'I feel like this has been… too easy, almost.'

'Too easy?' Regina frowned. 'Emma – he could have _killed_ you. He followed you up the east coast and he threatened your life and mine _and_ Henry's.'

'I know,' Emma said, running her hands over her hair. 'But he's actually been taken away now and he's in some cell and it just all happened so quickly. This morning, before he showed up, I had started to feel like maybe I was free from him, and now I actually could be. It's just… a lot to absorb.'

Regina swallowed. She didn't want to be the bearer of bad news, and she knew that Emma was probably aware of it – but she had to say it anyway. 'Emma. You know he probably won't confess to it.'

Emma smiled, and it looked painful. 'Yeah. I know.'

'And you know that there will be a hearing, and you'll have to give evidence, and—'

'Regina,' Emma interrupted her in her quietest voice. 'I know all of that. I promise you – I'm not under some illusion that everything is over now and he can never hurt me again. But for the first time ever, he's a bit further away and I just feel… relieved. It's probably really naïve of me, but—'

'No,' Regina said, walking over to the counter. She leaned against the edge of it and reached out for Emma's hand, squeezing it between her own. 'It's not naïve. I'm glad that you're still able to let yourself feel like that.'

Emma smiled at her. 'It's only because of you.'

'Me?'

'Yeah,' Emma said. She looked down and realised that their fingers were still laced together, and she made no attempt to separate them. 'I think we both know that if I hadn't come here to find you – if I'd just run away to some other random town and hoped that he'd never track me down, and he'd shown up at my door there – I wouldn't have been able to say no to him. I might not have even left him in the first place – I never had any intention of doing it before you showed up in Boston and immediately called me on all my crap and told me, without knowing a single thing about me, that I was better than him. You planted the idea in my head and you've been making it grow ever since. Every single day, when you told me that I deserve better, I started to believe you just a little bit more.'

Regina could feel a flush of pride rising in her cheeks. 'I'm just glad I could help.'

She wasn't looking up, and Emma took the opportunity to absorb her face in its entirety. Regina was paler than normal and clearly exhausted, and whenever she pursed her lips Emma could see that she had been biting at them, probably since the moment they had stepped into the ambulance together.

Emma squeezed on her hand, and Regina looked up.

'You do realise that you saved my life, don't you?'

Regina half rolled her eyes. 'Stop being so dramatic.'

'No,' Emma said more firmly, never blinking, never looking away. Her eyes were piercing and urgent and as much as Regina wanted to avert her gaze, she couldn't. 'Regina, you were like some kind of superhero tonight. He would have killed me if you hadn't been here – he wouldn't have thought twice about it. But you threw him off and you got in between us and… god, you could have gotten so hurt.'

'But I didn't,' Regina said as gently as she could. 'I'm fine. As usual, you're the one who did.'

'Because it was my problem,' Emma shrugged. 'It was my place. You had nothing to do with any of this until I dragged you into it, and all I wanted was for you to get out of it safely but you just… you stayed for me. And all the things you said to him, about me and about…'

She paused, swallowing.

'No one has ever stood up for me like that before, Regina. No one. And I was so scared for you – when he showed up here and I knew that I couldn't come and get you from work, and then the phone kept ringing and ringing and I knew it was you wondering where I was and wondering why you'd ever bothered to take a chance on me. I was so scared that you would come storming in and get hurt, and all I wanted was for you to decide to just go to the hospital and see Henry after all and not get caught up in any of this. But you didn't, and you risked your life for me, and you saved me. I don't know how I can ever thank you for that.'

'I don't want your thanks, Emma,' Regina said. Emma's hand felt burning hot in her own. 'I just want you safe. That's all.'

The smile that Emma gave her then was surprisingly shy. She looked down at their interlaced fingers with some of her normal colour finally returning to her cheeks.

After a moment of silence, Regina looked up at the clock. 'It's nearly 1 o'clock, you know.'

'God,' Emma said. 'Is it? I'm not even tired.'

Regina herself felt completely drained, but she wasn't about to say that. She nodded. 'Me either. It must be all the adrenaline. Do you want a cup of tea?'

Emma frowned. 'Tea?'

'It's good for you if you've been through trauma,' Regina said, reluctantly peeling her fingers away from Emma's. 'The sugar helps with shock.'

'I don't really like tea,' Emma said, watching as Regina began to walk away. 'Especially if there's sugar in it.'

'Well, I'm having one,' Regina said, pulling a cup out of the cupboard and deliberately not looking round. 'Suit yourself.'

There was a pause. Emma watched as Regina filled up the kettle and placed it on the stove. Then she said, 'Okay. I'll have one too.'

Regina smiled to herself, taking out a second cup without saying a word.

When the tea was ready, Regina brought the two steaming cups back over to where Emma was sitting. The fact that Emma had already sourced two coasters and laid them out in front of her made Regina feel oddly like crying.

'We should probably talk to Henry about this, you know,' Emma said, nodding her thanks and pulling the cup closer to her. 'About Killian.'

Regina froze. 'We… should?'

'Well. I think so,' Emma said. 'He's your son so I know it's your decision, but I just think that he's obviously already aware that I didn't get my old bruises from tripping over a cable. When he sees me like this he's bound to start asking questions all over again.'

'And you don't mind him knowing?' Regina said, pulling herself up onto the barstool opposite Emma's.

Emma paused, wetting her lips. Her eyes were fixed on the thin tendrils of steam rising out of her mug. 'Maybe he shouldn't know everything. Some of the gory details are probably a bit too much for a 10-year-old. But…'

Her sentence trailed off and Regina sighed.

'Emma,' she said, reaching out for Emma's hand once more and waiting for her to look back up. 'Henry already knows.'

'He does?' Emma blinked. 'How?'

'Because he's intuitive as hell,' Regina rolled her eyes. 'He probably knew from the moment he met you – that's why he kept asking about your face and your family and what you were really doing here. But then tonight, when you were being checked over and then being questioned… I hope you don't mind.'

Emma's face flickered with a smile. 'You went to go and see him?'

'Yes,' Regina said, chewing on her bottom lip. 'I wasn't sneaking off without you. I just… I wasn't needed and I didn't want to just sit around feeling useless, and he was only two floors away.'

'It's okay, Regina,' Emma said, rubbing her thumb over the back of Regina's hand. 'I don't mind you paying your sick son a visit. I'm not a sociopath.'

'But you might have wanted to come with me.'

Emma shrugged. 'Sure, I would have. But do you really think that would have been a good idea?'

Regina took in the bruises and marks that were spread across Emma's face like cracked eggs, and in spite of herself, she smiled. 'No. Probably not.'

'So, you went and saw him,' Emma said, picking up her cup and blowing on the surface of the tea. 'What happened?'

'He asked what I was doing there at 10pm, obviously,' Regina said, shaking her head. 'So I told him the truth – that you had been brought in because you'd gotten hurt, and while they were checking you out in the emergency room I'd decided to go and see how he was doing.'

Emma was already smiling. 'And what did he say to _that_?'

'Oh, god,' Regina sighed, almost laughing. 'It was incessant. "Is she okay? Can I help? Can I go see her? How did she get hurt? What's wrong with her? Can she come and stay in my room with me?" At one point he got out of the bed to go and find you himself. I had to physically restrain him.'

And in that split second, Emma saw a flash of hurt cross Regina's face. She didn't need to wonder what it was about.

She squeezed more tightly on Regina's hand.

'He doesn't love me, you know,' she said quietly. 'Not like he loves you. He's just interested in me, is all.'

At once, Regina's favourite emotionless smile appeared on her lips. 'I am aware of that, Miss Swan. It's just a bit…'

'Threatening,' Emma finished for her. Regina blinked, and just as quickly as it had been brought up, her mask slipped.

'Yes. Exactly.'

'And that's okay,' Emma said. Regina was sure that she'd never looked at her so intensely before. 'From the moment you came to Boston, we knew this would be difficult. Even though things have turned out… well, kind of differently to how we expected, this is still really hard. Especially for you. But I'm not going to steal your son away from you, and I don't think he'd want me to. He loves you to the moon and back, Regina. I can never compete with that, and I wouldn't even try to.'

The cold bubble of fear in Regina's chest stopped feeling quite so suffocating. She sighed.

'I've been a single mother for the last 10 years,' she said quietly. 'I've never had a co-parent. I don't have any idea how that's meant to work.'

Emma looked down at their interlocked fingers. 'Regina – _if_ you are still happy with me staying in this town, then we're going to play by your rules, not mine. If you want to set a schedule for when I can see him, that's okay. If you want me to come round at the drop of a hat, then that's okay too. Whatever you like. I want this to be as easy as possible for you.'

Regina frowned. 'If I want you to come round?'

'Well,' Emma blinked. 'If you'd rather I meet him somewhere else, that's cool too. I just—'

'No, you idiot,' Regina rolled her eyes. 'I meant – you won't be staying here?'

There was a pause. Emma narrowed her eyes at Regina, checking that she wasn't about to start laughing.

'Why would I stay here?' she asked slowly.

'Well,' Regina blustered, trying to pull her hand away. Emma held on tight. 'I don't know. I just don't want you to feel like you _have_ to leave. If you want to find your own place then you are more than welcome to, but… you know.'

She waited for Emma to say something in response, but nothing came. Regina looked up, her eyes squinting anxiously, and she found Emma watching her with an expression of amusement that told her she didn't believe a word that she was saying.

Regina sighed and said more quietly, 'I've just enjoyed having you here. That's all.'

Emma smiled. 'You know I've enjoyed being here too, and, if you'll let me stay, then I really don't have any plans to leave this town. But this house is yours, Regina. You've been ridiculously kind, letting me stay here for the last few days, but Henry will be back soon and I'm pretty sure neither of you will want some strange woman crashing in the guest room when that happens.'

Regina forced herself to shrug, like maybe Emma had a point, but she didn't say what she really wanted to.

_But I'll miss you._

'Anyway,' Emma said, finally releasing Regina's hand so that she could pick up her cup of tea. 'You were telling me what happened when you saw Henry.'

'Oh, right,' Regina said, pulling her own cup towards her. 'Well, there were a lot of questions. A lot of him demanding that I take him to see you. But eventually I managed to convince him that that wasn't a good idea, and so he just straight out asked who hurt you.'

'You didn't try for another "she fell down" story?'

Regina raised her eyebrows. 'Would you have believed that?'

'Probably not,' Emma admitted. 'So what happened?'

'I decided I should probably just be honest with him,' Regina said slowly. 'I'm sorry – I should have discussed it with you first. I just… he's my son and I don't like lying to him.'

But Emma had already raised one hand, waving Regina's words away. 'Don't worry about it. You don't have to run anything by me. What did you tell him?'

'I said that you'd left your home because your husband kept hurting you,' Regina said, swallowing. 'And that he'd managed to find you. Henry asked what happened and I didn't want to give him too much information, so I just told him that he had hit you and then Graham had come and taken him away, and you were going to be okay now.'

To her surprise, Emma suddenly grinned. Regina blinked back at her.

'What?' she asked slowly.

'Nothing. I just forgot to ask you about that,' Emma said.

'Ask what?'

' _Graham_ ,' Emma said. 'He's the sheriff you used to meet up with at Granny's, right?'

At once, Regina's cheeks turned scarlet. 'How on _earth_ did you remember that today of all days?'

'I had some spare time while they were x-raying my ankle,' Emma replied, smirking. 'He's kind of cute. I can see why you went for him.'

'He was… fine.'

'How long were you seeing each other for?'

'It's… hard to say,' Regina said, shifting in her seat. 'Quite a long time.'

'And how did you end things?'

'I don't know. I…' Suddenly, Regina paused – she had heard something in Emma's probing voice that she hadn't expected to. With a delighted laugh, she asked, 'Are you _jealous_?'

At once Emma bristled, her own cheeks flushing. 'No! Of course I'm not.'

'Then why do you care about him?'

'I'm showing an _interest_ ,' Emma snapped. 'It's the polite thing to do.'

'Because we've always been so polite to one another?'

'Well, no. But now I can see why I never bothered.' Emma glared down at her cup of tea. 'You are so obnoxious.'

'And you are _so_ bad at hiding your feelings,' Regina replied more softly. She reached out and prised Emma's fingers away from her mug. 'It never meant anything, Emma. He was just a distraction.'

Emma scowled. 'An attractive one.'

'Well, yes. Graham is good looking,' Regina admitted, squeezing Emma's hand. 'But he was also not very interesting, and not particularly smart either. We never had any real connection. He was just the best of a bad bunch.'

Emma forced a smile. She knew it was completely ridiculous for her to be jealous of Regina's ex when she was the one who was _married_ , but it didn't stop her stomach from twisting around like a length of rope.

Regina could see the disappointment flickering across her face and suddenly all she wanted in the whole world was to make it go away again.

'Emma,' she said softly, waiting for her to look back up at her. 'I do mean it. We saw each other for an hour a week and we barely even knew each other. He certainly wouldn't have been able to cook my favourite meal for me.'

'I could only do it because I asked Henry what it is.'

'And the fact that you cared enough to ask says a great deal more than you can possibly realise,' Regina said. 'We weren't even friends. He was just… there. And I ended it because that wasn't enough anymore.'

Emma hated herself for asking it, but she had to do it. 'I'm just 'here' too. Am I a distraction as well?'

Regina paused, her eyes narrowing. She knew that she should be offended, or even angry that Emma was questioning this. But Emma wasn't asking out of malice, or to get a rise out of her – she was asking because she genuinely needed to know. Her heart was aching and Regina was all she had left, and she needed to know how tightly she was allowed to cling onto her before she inevitably got told to let go again.

Regina released her hand, and immediately Emma's face collapsed.

But then Regina climbed out of her seat and walked around to the other side of the island, with Emma watching her the whole way. When she reached her side, she slowly reached out for Emma's chin, holding it as gently as possible as she turned her face towards her.

Emma waited with her gaze darting across Regina's face, taking in the dark circles underneath her eyes and the faint bite marks in her trembling lower lip. There was a pause before Regina moved her hand, tucking a stray wisp of hair behind Emma's ear.

Her hand shifted and rested below Emma's ear, her thumb gently stroking her swollen jaw and her fingers cupping the back of her neck. Emma still looked up at her, her eyes wide and glassy, watching the woman above her like she had descended from heaven with the sole purpose of protecting Emma from this awful, shitty world. She was the only real friend that Emma had ever had and, she was slowly starting to realise, probably the only one she would ever need.

Regina hesitated, frowning for just a second, before she leaned forwards and pressed her lips against Emma's. It was the softest, most cautious kiss that Emma had ever known, and she felt her eyes prickling from Regina's touch. Reaching her hands forwards and resting them on Regina's waist, she held her loosely, willing her to come closer without wanting to pull her.

Regina lifted her other hand to cup Emma's face and gently parted her lips, feeling their noses brush against one another as she moved. She desperately wanted to kiss her more fiercely, finally finishing their kiss from the night before, but she was all too aware of Emma's bruised, aching face and the tired circles under her eyes. So instead she stepped closer, pressing her body as close to Emma's as she could, and gently tilted her head back. She felt Emma's grip on her waist tighten momentarily as she parted her lips further, telling her everything with one kiss that she wasn't quite brave enough to say out loud.

When Regina pulled away and rested her forehead against Emma's, it wasn't with the same regret as she night before. Emma opened her eyes and looked up at her, not wondering why she'd stopped but just happy that she'd kissed her in the first place.

'Please stay,' Regina said quietly.

Emma blinked. She reached up one hand and pushed Regina's hair away from her face.

'For how long?'

'As long as you like,' Regina said, standing upright once more. Her right hand stayed on Emma's face, gently cupping her swollen cheek, and Emma leaned into it. 'If you really want to find a place of your own, then I won't stop you. But I want you to stay here. So please, don't go. Not yet.'

Emma felt like she was being cracked open. Both women knew that Emma was lonely and deeply afraid, and it wasn't altogether surprising whenever she showed it. But it was rare that Regina would admit she felt the same way.

Everything that Killian had spat at Emma – that Regina didn't really want her there, or even care about her at all – had been a lie. She already knew that – Regina had just given her the proof.

Emma reached forward, took hold of Regina's other hand, and brought it up to her lips.

'Okay,' she said, pressing a kiss against her knuckles.

Regina sagged with relief. 'You mean it?'

'Of course,' Emma smiled. 'I have no idea why you would want me here taking up all your room, but if you are happy to have me, then I'm not going anywhere.'

'I want you here because you are my friend,' Regina said, then paused. 'And hopefully more. I like your company and I want to get to know you better, and I just… I have to be sure that you're safe. I can't let you go until I know that you're going to be alright. Is that… is that okay?'

Emma smiled, suddenly certain that she was about to cry. 'It's perfect.'

Regina sighed, gratitude ebbing from her. She leaned forward and kissed the top of Emma's head, breathing in the smell of vanilla that she'd already come to love so much.

When she pulled away, tears pricking at her eyes, she took in the two full cups beside them and sighed.

'I think our tea has gone cold.'

'Well, I did warn you that I don't like it,' Emma said, lifting her cup and taking a sip. 'It's okay. It's still warm.'

Regina reluctantly returned to her own seat. 'We should probably go to bed after this.'

'Probably,' Emma sighed, looking up at the clock. It was 1:30am. 'Unless you still have room for lasagne.'

Regina laughed. 'I put it away. We can have it tomorrow.'

'It might be terrible.'

'Well, it almost certainly won't be as good as mine,' Regina said, smirking. 'But I'm willing to give it a try.'

Emma snorted, drinking more of her tea with a pained expression on her face. Regina noticed at once.

'Is it that bad?'

'It's okay,' Emma shrugged. 'I would have preferred scotch though.'

'So would I,' Regina admitted. 'We can have that tomorrow too.'

Emma smiled.

'It's a date,' she said, and against her will Regina felt herself blushing.

'Yes, it is,' she murmured. Emma's gaze fell, her lips still curved upwards, and they drank the rest of their tea in silence.

* * *

As Regina washed the cups and locked up the house, Emma hauled her exhausted body up the stairs, using the banister as a crutch. She eventually made it into what was now her bedroom and collapsed at the end of the bed, then began to root around for the pyjamas that she had claimed as her own.

When Regina came upstairs, she found Emma in the guest bathroom, brushing her teeth as she thoughtfully examined her own face in the mirror. Regina leaned against the doorframe, ready to offer her some kind of reassurance about her injuries, but then she paused. She realised with a sad twinge that Emma didn't even look concerned by them.

'Are you okay?' Regina asked, and Emma turned to look at her, toothpaste frothing at the corners of her mouth. She nodded, offering Regina a genuine smile. Regina nodded. She slipped back into the hallway, going to her own room to get ready for bed.

Ten minutes later, when Emma was just scooting down below her sheets and trying to work out the best way to position her injured ankle, Regina appeared in the doorway, wearing the same silky shorts and cami as the night before. She had pulled her hair back into a short ponytail and as soon as Emma spotted her, her face lit up.

Regina paused. 'What?'

'Nothing,' Emma said, propping herself up on one elbow. 'You just look sweet.'

Regina rolled her eyes, but the compliment made her blush. 'Whatever you say, Miss Swan.'

She walked towards the bed, pulling back the corner of the duvet, and Emma didn't even question why she was choosing to stay with her again. She was so relieved by the fact that Regina wanted to spend the night by her side that she just smiled, settling back against her pillows.

'Is your ankle okay?' Regina asked, sliding between the sheets. Emma shrugged.

'It hurts,' she said. 'But I've had worse.'

'Are you going to be able to sleep?'

'Probably,' Emma said. She watched as Regina settled down, adjusting the pillows beneath her head. She turned onto her side to face Emma.

'Can you turn off the lamp?'

Emma reached out and snapped it off, and the room fell into darkness.

Emma's face was throbbing, and she realised then that the hospital painkillers were beginning to wear off. She grimaced, turning onto her side and positioning herself carefully so that she didn't lean on any of her new bruises. Her leg was stretched out along the bed, but she could feel her ankle starting to ache all over again.

She glanced up, and even in the darkness she could see that Regina was watching her. 'Does it hurt?'

Emma swallowed. 'Yeah.'

'Can I do anything?'

'No. Just…' Emma sighed. It was easier to be honest in the dark, but some things were still hard to say. 'Just stay with me.'

'I will.' Regina reached out and found Emma's hand above the sheets, and their fingers automatically laced together. 'I promise.'

Emma cleared her throat, and Regina waited patiently for whatever it was she wanted to say. She could feel Emma's fingers tapping nervously against the back of her hand.

'You were right to stop things last night,' Emma said, her voice curling through the darkness. 'I'm sorry I was such a jerk about it. I was just disappointed and embarrassed and I guess probably a bit afraid too. But you did the right thing I'm sorry for acting like such a douche afterwards.'

Regina didn't have to ask her what she was afraid of. She squeezed on her hand.

'I was disappointed too,' she said. 'And a little afraid. I wanted to keep going, but…'

'I know,' Emma said. 'You don't have to explain. You were the one who was thinking straight. I was just a bit lost in it all.'

Regina smiled. 'Well. It was very good.'

She heard Emma laugh softly. 'It really was. It's good to know that your mouth is skilled at many things, other than calling me an idiot.'

Regina laughed out loud, bringing Emma's hand up to her lips so that she could kiss her knuckles.

'You know I don't actually mean it.'

'Usually,' Emma said, and Regina felt her shuffling closer. 'But sometimes I probably deserve it.'

She was suddenly only an inch away and, no matter how exhausted Regina felt, all she wanted to do was reach out and pull Emma towards her, kissing her until she couldn't remember her own name.

'Sometimes,' Regina murmured, her voice soft, as she released Emma's hand. She reached out to find the side of her face and tucked a curl behind her ear. 'It can be endearing though.'

Emma's eyes had finally adjusted to the darkness, and she could see Regina's face only a breath away from her own. Her hand, pressed coolly against the side of her throbbing face, made the pain start to ebb away. She felt her toes curl against the sheets, her body arching towards Regina's of its own accord.

She took a breath and gambled.

'Kiss me.'

Regina had never heard her speak so softly before. Without hesitation, she edged forwards and brushed the tip of her nose against Emma's, listening to her sigh of relief like it was her favourite song, before she tilted her head forwards and captured Emma's mouth with her own. At once Emma's hands slid up to her neck, holding onto the back of it as she felt herself starting to drown under wave upon wave of soft, open-mouthed kisses.

Regina wanted more, so much more, but she forced herself to take it slow, holding Emma gently like she might break at any moment. She flicked her tongue inside Emma's mouth, her whole body shivering when Emma moaned in response, and cupped the back of her head. She tilted it back against the pillows and buried a hand beneath her hair, sliding one leg between Emma's.

Then she felt a trickle of something wet against her nose and pulled back, her heart pounding. She sighed.

'Oh, Emma,' she said softly, reaching out to brush one thumb under her swollen eyes. Emma's face was wet with tears and, even though she was smiling and shaking her head, Regina's heart felt like it was breaking.

'I'm okay,' Emma said, almost laughing. She reached up to brush the tears off of her cheeks. 'It's okay. I'm sorry. I just…'

She sighed, quickly pressing a kiss against Regina's lips before she could pull away again.

'I'm just really, really glad you're here.'

In spite of herself, Regina smiled. 'This is a funny way of showing it.'

'Sorry,' Emma repeated, swallowing. Her throat felt jagged. 'It's just been a really long day. I didn't plan on ruining your amazing kisses with my crying. I'm not even sad.'

Regina half-laughed, shaking her head.

'I think you might be a little bit,' she said quietly.

Emma paused. 'Maybe. But not about this.'

'I'm glad to hear it,' Regina replied, leaning forwards for a final kiss before she settled back down against her pillows. 'You really need to get some sleep.'

Emma's head was spinning. 'Yeah. Probably.'

'Maybe…' Regina said, then swallowed. 'Maybe I could take tomorrow off? We could spend the day together.'

Through the darkness, she could see the beaming smile that had spread across Emma's still-wet face.

'I would really like that,' she said softly, edging closer to Regina's side. 'We could spend the morning with Henry.'

'Yes,' Regina agreed. She paused, then turned slightly away from Emma so that she could press her back up against her stomach. She felt Emma's hand slide around her waist. 'Then I can show you the town properly. Since you're going to be staying here a while.'

'That sounds great,' Emma murmured in her ear.

'Did you ever try Granny's diner?'

'No, I didn't get the chance.'

'I'll take you there,' Regina said, nudging herself further backwards until Emma's body was perfectly curved against her own. 'It's not the most upmarket establishment, but she does very good pancakes.'

She felt Emma's sleepy smile against her shoulder. 'You like pancakes?'

'I do. Just don't tell Henry that.'

Emma laughed. 'I'll take it to my grave.'

Regina smiled, closing her eyes. Emma's warm body was wrapped around her like a blanket, and behind her she could feel her breathing starting to slow.

Then she suddenly piped up, 'You know, it would probably make more sense for us to sleep in your bed.'

Regina didn't open her eyes. 'Probably.'

'Tomorrow maybe.'

'Yes,' Regina said, squeezing the hand that was resting on her waist. 'Tomorrow.'

**THE END**

* * *

_**A/N:** Thanks so much for tagging along with this story even though it was dark as fuck and came three years after the first chapter. You guys truly are the best. I hope I didn't scar any of you too badly... More stories coming soon hopefully! x_


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